CHRISTIAN LESSONS 

UNITaria 

AND i ' 1 " n i A 

V ^ AS30Cf ATlON 
X %ON, 

CHRISTIAN LI 



SAMUEL ABBOT SMITH. 



ttfj a fHcmotr 



By EDWARD J. YOUNG. 



e, BOSTON 
NICHOLS AND 
1866. 



NO YES. 



.S5lC 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, 
BY NICHOLS AND NOYES, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



CAMBRIDGE : PRESS OP JOHN WILSON AND SONS. 



TO 



THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH 
IN WEST CAMBRIDGE, 

STIjis fHnncrial 



ONE WHO GAVE ALL HIS STRENGTH TO THEIR SERVICE, 
AND WHO FINALLY GAVE HIS LIFE FOR THE 
CAUSE OF CHRIST AND OF 
HIS COUNTRY, 



IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS. 



Pa?e 

MEMOIR ix-Lxi 

SERMONS. 

I. Fidelity in our Sphere, however Humble . . 1 

II. We are a Spectacle to the World 10 

III. Magnify your Office 18 

IV. Temptation 26 

V. Conflict, God's Method of Progress .... 34 

VI. Endure Hardness, as a Good Soldier of Jesus 

Christ 42 

YII. The Importance of Religious Beliefs .... 50 

V11L The Influence of Belief on Life 58 

IX. Fill up what is lacking in the Sufferings of 

Christ 70 

X. Christian Fellowship SO 

XL The Book of the Acts 89 

XII. Justification by Faith 98 

XIII. The Indwelling Spirit 106 

XIY. Lessons of the Flowers US 

XV. Monuments . 127 

XYI. Great Men 135 

XVII. The Pilgrim Fathers 143 



vi 



CONTENTS. 



SELECTIONS. 

Page 

The Bible 153 

Biographies. — Life of Jesus 153 

Christ the Image of God 156 

Christ our Example 160 

Silence of Scripture 162 

The World does not have Justice done it 169 

The Trinity 170 

Future Punishment 171 

Independence to be with the Minority 172 

Creeds and Covenants 174 

Multiplicity of Sects in Christendom ....... 176 

Christian Union 178 

The Lord's Prayer 182 

The Lord's Supper 187 

Joining the Church 192 

The Sphere of the Pulpit 196 

The Duty of the Minister 201 

The Relation between Pastor and People 206 



The Inward Witness of God 210 

Piety 211 

Morality and Religion 215 

Prayer 217 

Christianity a Personal Religion 220 

Happiness of the Christian Life 221 

Reception of Divine Influences 222 

Address to the Volunteers, May 3, 1861 223 

Christian Manliness 226 



CONTENTS. vii 

Page 

Improvement of Opportunities 231 

Activity in Old Age 235 

Patience to wait for Results 236 

God's Greatest Trusts committed to the Lowly . . 240 

" He went about doing Good" 241 

Mutual Dependence 243 

Contagion of Evil 245 

Morality in Business and Politics 250 

Honesty in Trade 254 

God's Will must be done 256 



Dedication of a New Home 257 

Family Devotion 258 

Sacrifice begets Love 259 

Amusements at Home 260 



Faith, the Lesson of Spring 263 

Trust in God 265 

Infirmity and Sickness 267 

Uses of Adversity 271 

Trials and Bereavements 273 

Suffering and Death 277 

Immortality 287 



MEMOIR. 



HEN a pure, noble, disinterested, and devout 



T " life is closed on earth, some record of it, if 
possible, ought to be preserved. The world should 
know that such goodness has been seen in it. The 
Church must prize each new addition to its calendar 
of saints. The words which have been spoken, and 
the example which has been set, by some choice spirit, 
should be perpetuated for the encouragement and gui- 
dance of those who will come after us. It is greatly to 
be regretted, when any wise teacher, any pattern of 
spiritual excellence, is taken away, without some me- 
morial being left behind.* A denomination may be 
well content to be small in numbers, when it is rich 
in scholars and in saints. 

It is not easy to delineate a symmetrical and har- 
monious character, or to describe a simple and unevent- 
ful life. What words can express that indefinable 
charm which goodness, gentleness, uniformly produces ? 
When this is manifested continually in little acts of 

* Among those who deserve commemoration, for their devotion of 
mind and heart and life to the cause of Christ, may be named Theo- 
dore Tebbets, appreciated and beloved wherever he was known, but 
of whom no permanent memorial has yet appeared. 




X 



MEMOIR. 



kindness, it is like the sunlight, which is ever shining 
and is ever felt by all, but which it is impossible to rep- 
resent. If we were to write memoirs of angels, it has 
been said, we should probably have very little to nar- 
rate : it would ail be in the line of purity and holiness, 
without any disturbing elements. 

Samuel Abbot Smith was born in Peterborough, 
N. H., on the 18th of April, 1829. His father, 
Samuel Garfield Smith, was the son of Hon. Samuel 
Smith, the founder of the village of Peterborough, and 
a member of Congress. His mother, Sarah Dorcas 
Abbot, was the daughter of Abiel Abbot, D.D., for- 
merly pastor of the Unitarian Church and Society in 
Peterborough.* If it be true, that we can judge of the 
character of a man from the character of his parents and 
grandparents, he could not have had better antecedents. 
His father was an active, energetic, enterprising man, 
engaged in manufactures, and possessed of great prac- 
tical wisdom and integrity. His mother, a woman of 
rare loveliness, and of a sweet and holy temper, died 
when he was but little more than two years old. As 
he was the only grandchild, he was at once adopted 
by his maternal grandparents ; and it was their influence, 
and that of their still surviving daughter, that moulded 
his character, and gave direction to his life. " My aunt 
Abby," he writes, "has been a second mother to me 
through my past life ; and in my grandfather and aunt 
the loss of my parents was almost made up to me." 

* See " Genealogy of the Family of William Smith of Peter- 
borough, 1ST.H.," compiled by L. W. Leonard, D.D., and Samuel 
Abbot Smith. Keene, 1852. pp. 11, 17. 



MEMOIR. 



xi 



The influences under which the delicate young child 
grew up were most favorable for his best development. 
Every thing about the home was calm and quiet, regular 
and simple; and an atmosphere of repose pervaded it, 
which, however, was not inconsistent with intellectual 
activity, vigorous thought, and careful culture. The 
grandfather, venerable, benignant, affable, who was now 
approaching his seventieth year, cherished with peculiar 
fondness and solicitude the little boy who was his pet 
and pride ; and there sprung up between them a most 
beautiful relation, which continued uninterrupted until 
the patriarch's death. The grandmother, helpless, yet 
serene and submissive, was the object of the warmest 
affection and devotedness of her grandchild, whose prin- 
ciples of piety and disinterestedness were confirmed by 
the counsels and prayers and examples of those whom 
he reverenced and loved. " Both Dr. and Mrs. Abbot." 
says Rev. Dr. Sprague, of Albany, - were of a calm and 
equable temperament and of a highly benevolent spirit,, 
and were discreet and cautious in all their movements, 
and exemplary in their wdiole conduct. Mrs. Abbot, 
during several of her last years, was confined to her 
bed and her chair, alternately, by paralysis : and as 
I used, year after year, to visit the family at Peter- 
borough, I always found her sitting in just the same 
place, without any thing apparent to indicate that she 
had not been stationary from the time of my previous 
visit. But, though I could perceive a gradual waning 
of her powers, I never witnessed in her the least sign of 
impatience, or even disquietude : and she never failed 
to greet me with that spirit of kindness and good-will 
which formed such an essential element in her nature. 



xii 



MEMOIR. 



It would bo difficult, 1 think, to find a family united 
more closely in the bonds ol" affection, or constituted in 
a more orderly and beautiful manner, than was that of 
Dr. Abbot ; and it is not strange that the fine, amiable, 

noble qualities which the grandson possessed, should 
have originated amidst such domestic influences as 
those into which he was thrown." Consecrated from 
his childhood, like Samuel of old, he grew up under 
the selectesl influences ; and it seemed scarcely possible 
that he should not be good. 

The romantic and picturesque scenery of his native 
town, which is surrounded by hills with the river run- 
ning between, on the one side the East Mountain and 
on the other (J rand Monadnock rising in the distance, 
impressed itself deeply upon his mind, and attached him 
strongly to his birthplace, which he loved to revisit, and 
where he was universally beloved. To him, nothing 
was so crushing as to be on a perfectly flat plain ; and 
he used to refer to the example of Robert Hall, who, 
after having been settled tor several years in Cam- 
bridge, England, finally left the place because it was 
so level that he could bear it no longer. 

lie very early manifested those qualities which char- 
acterized him in later life. His mechanical ingenuity, 
which enabled him to manufacture various useful ar- 
ticles for his own house, showed itself in his fondness 
for building and inventing. When he was eight years 
old, he constructed an electrical machine, and also an 
engine which would throw water to the top of the 
house ; and he afterwards built a summer-house in the 
garden with his own hands. Always making himself 
useful, he assisted in ploughing, planting, pruning, hoe- 



MEMOIR. 



xiii 



ing, and in harvesting the fruits which were so abun- 
dant on his grandfather's goodly farm. He never lost 
the relish for these employments. Even after he had 
begun to preach, he writes to a friend : " I have been 
at Peterborough the past week, and worked in the fur- 
niture-shop two days, making book-shelves ; and came 
off with honorable scars in the shape of a blister on 
each side of my right hand. Perhaps, when I have 
to give up my profession as you have had to, I will 
come and settle down with you as the village carpenter. 
I believe my genius runs to that rather than to farm- 
ing." 

He early exhibited also those moral traits which 
always made him a favorite with all. With a sunny, 
amiable, affectionate disposition, he was kind, dutiful, 
considerate of others, exceedingly conscientious, and all 
that those who were most interested in him wished him 
to be. Though idolized and indulged by his grand- 
parents, he took no advantage, but felt, that, when others 
were so kind to him, he ought for that reason to be the 
more kind to them. When refused any thing that he 
wanted, he would not manifest disappointment ; but he 
would take a book and sit down, and be perfectly happy. 
It was even said that it would be difficult to know how 
to punish him, since he always found good in every 
thing. There seemed to be in him no waywardness to 
be corrected, no bad habit to be surmounted, no self- 
ishness to be overcome. But one instance is told of 
any mischief having been done by him ; and this was 
rather from a boyish love of fun, than from any inten- 
tion to do wrong. He gained the respect, as well as the 
love, of his companions ; for, though slender and by no 



xiv 



MEMOIR. 



means robust, he was not effeminate or childish. He 
enjoyed manly games, he excelled in leaping and run- 
ning, and he generally came off best in the race. When 
he returned home in vacation, there was a new joy 
kindled in many hearts. 

In 1836, his father having married again, Abbot went 
with him from Peterborough to South Berwick, Me., 
where he attended a private school, and also the acad- 
emy ; and his time, until his father's death in 1842, was 
divided between his old home at his grandfather's and 
his new one. 

In 1843, being fourteen years of age, he entered 
Phillips Exeter Academy, where he remained two years, 
under the care of Mr. Gideon L. Soule. While here, 
he showed himself a quiet and unpretending boy, always 
diligent and improving. His recitations were never 
brilliant, but always finished, and enunciated with re- 
markable distinctness. No one stood above him in his 
class. He never felt nor required the government of 
the school, but gave his mind assiduously and joyously 
to its exercises. He was regarded by the Faculty and 
by his fellows as unfailingly true and trustworthy. He 
never obtruded himself upon others ; but his unconscious 
influence, though he was younger than the average of 
his fellow-students, was great and always for good, 
When he graduated, the Salutatory Oration was as- 
signed to him. His letters written at this time are 
marked by charming simplicity and naturalness. 

I have just finished a composition on the subject, " The 
boy is father of the man." I wrote three pages on it. I 
made a mistake, at first, in writing the subject ; and it read 
thus : " The man is father of the boy." I have no doubt of 
the truth of the last version of the subject : have you ? 



MEMOIR. 



XV 



I suppose you saw, by the Catalogue I sent you, what 
part I have. I don't exactly like it: it seems rather silly 
to go on in the just same way they did fifty years ago, 
and say "nos salutamus " about six or seven times, and 
after each to have four or five lines of flattery or something 
worse, which we don't entirely believe ourselves. But 
there is this good thing about it, that there will be but very 
few who will understand it. 

On account of his youth and delicate constitution, 
Abbot, after leaving Exeter, studied for a year with his 
grandfather, and entered the Sophomore Class of Har- 
vard College in 1846, unconditioned. Here, though 
modest and retiring, he was quite popular, being a 
member of several societies, and enjoying the warm 
regard of all those who knew his social qualities, his 
hopeful and genial disposition, his playful humor, and 
his cheerful spirit. He devoted himself faithfully to his 
studies ; and, in consequence of intense application, his 
eyes became so affected that he was obliged to give up 
reading in the evening; and, during the last term of the 
Senior year, he was compelled to be absent for several 
weeks from his class. Notwithstanding this, he held 
high rank, receiving a " Detur," a part in a Latin Dia- 
logue, a Latin Oration, and the Salutatory at Com- 
mencement. After graduating at the age of twenty, 
on account of his sight he returned to Peterborough, 
where he remained a year, studying German and deter- 
mining his profession. Having been predestined for 
the pulpit, he felt that the ministry should not be 
thrust upon him, but that he should enter upon it. if 
at all, from choice. In his correspondence, while he 
was an undergraduate, are the following sentences. 



xvi 



MEMOIR. 



Dec. 17, 1848. — I have not yet made up my mind about 
a profession ; but it must be decided with all due delibera- 
tion, as it is to be settled for life. I have struck out, from 
the list of professions I shall study, medicine and law, as 
I don't have much of a taste for either of them ; so my 
circle of choice is narrowed down to civil-engineering 
and divinity. 

July 15, 1849. — - My next care must be to select a pro- 
fession. Somehow or other, I incline to divinity, though I 
have some doubts as to its being suitable to me, and great 
ones as to my being fit for it. I believe, though, that the 
present age needs praccicai men for its clergy; men who 
can not only talk, but act on what they talk ; and I fear 
that I should not be of the right kind : if so, it would be 
worse than nothing to attempt it. But, granting that I was 
good enough for a clergyman, there are some other objec- 
tions to it. There are my weak eyes, which would not 
bear the study necessary to success, I fear ; and my voice 
is not over strong, and might rebel against so constant use 
and abuse. I am glad that I have a year to settle all these 
doubtful points, and make my decision. 

In 1850, Abbot entered the Divinity School in 
Cambridge, where he pursued the regular course of 
study; being excused, however, from Hebrew, on account 
of his eyes. During this period, he carried on a very 
interesting correspondence, " the most earnest I ever 
had," with Anna W., his cousin, in which were dis- 
cussed freely subjects of the deepest religious interest 
to both. He wrote frequently also to George W. C, his 
townsman, classmate, chum, and most intimate friend, 
"who seems to me almost like a brother," who had 
commenced the study of law, but who, as well as his 
cousin, passed away in 1854. The subjoined passages 



MEMOIR. 



xvii 



indicate his feelings, purposes, and opinions in these 
years of preparation for the ministry. 

March 2, 1850. — I feel as if I ought to satisfy myself, 
by my own searching, about certain points. I mean first 
to attend to the evidences of Christianity, then the au- 
thenticity, and then the doctrines and precepts. I have 
already made up my mind on them ; but it has been, so to 
speak, by inheritance, and not by my own investigation. 
Now, I want to have my opinions well grounded, so that I 
can give a reason for them. If doubts and questions come 
up, they must be solved some time, and can be met as well 
sooner as later. And, if these important questions are 
fairly met now and answered, there will be little danger of 
change and wavering afterwards. 

April 18, 1850. — Probably I have passed through more 
than half of my life in these twenty-one years ; for it is 
more than doubtful whether I shall live to see my forty- 
second birthday. 

Oct. 13, 1850. — The studies here are very interesting; 
and the only trouble is, I have not eyes to do them justice. 
I can't study well more than an hour at a time, without 
exercise. After that time, my eyes begin to rebel, and I 
compromise the matter by exercising a little. This is 
good, both for eyes and mind and body. 

March 31, 1851. — I have just been reading Romans, 
and was surprised to see how new they seemed to be to me. 
Paul wrote a good many things hard to be explained ; but 
I don't know anywhere in the older heathen writers so 
grand sentiments as he expresses. Some chapters would 
have as many good texts as they have verses. 

b 



xyiii 



MEMOIR. 



May 31, 1851. — -Shall not you and I have to guard 
against the opposite errors to which perhaps our profes- 
sions incline us ? The study of law is extremely conser- 
vative in its influence ; and is not that of divinity rather 
to the opposite extreme ? Perhaps in this case, as in most, 
the middle course is really the correct one, and the conser- 
vative-radical (if such can be) stands on the right ground. 
It would have been pleasant, if we could have chosen the 
same profession ; but perhaps our choice as it is is the wisest. 
JSTor are they so different. Their final end is the same, to 
serve God and man, and to develop our own minds ; if we 
come to this end, it matters not which path we take of the 
many leading to it. 

F., our good radical brother, mourns much over the calm 
views I take of subjects which to him are so exciting ; and 
I believe that he is half right. I ought to have a little 
more mercury in my composition, or at least use faithfully 
the small allowance which I have. 

I have been at home now for four or five weeks, and I have 
used the vacation for some good purposes. I have worked 
somewhat on the knotty points of dogmatic theology, the 
Trinity especially ; and, I believe without prejudice, have 
come to the conclusion that this doctrine is not supported 
by Scripture. It is a mystery to me how it could ever 
have either been invented or believed. 

April 11, 1852. — Theodore Parkers theology I don't 
like ; but there is a good deal in his practice, his active 
benevolence, which would put to shame those who think 
they hold to a more orthodox faith. 

April 28, 1852. — I finished my dissertation on the 
Arian controversy. It was not a pleasant subject to inves- 
tigate ; for it was a history of bigotry, of sectarian rancor, 
of sins committed in the name of Christ. 



MEMOIR. 



xix 



Sept. 11, 1852. — What a wonderful thing is that rite 
of the Supper, so simple, and yet so impressive ! I don't 
know any thing winch has ever impressed me so much. It 
appeals to something in us as nothing merely human can. 

Dec. 13, 1852. — I am writing to-day a review of some 
of Edwards's sermons. They are admirable sermons ; at 
least, one of them, on the reality of spiritual illumination. 
The ideas in them are put with great force, and the argu- 
ments are capitally arranged. But in his sermon on " Sin- 
ners in the hands of an angry God " are some horrible 
things. I can't conceive how one man could write the tAvo 
different sermons. 

April 30, 1853. — There has been quite a change in our 
household at Peterborough since I wrote you. My grand- 
mother, who, for fifteen years, has been teaching us a lesson 
of patience and trust, has finished her work, and gone to 
her reward. TTe could hardly mourn for her release from 
pain ; but how much we shall miss her smile and her 
pleasant greeting ! It will seem as if part of the house is 
gone, when we no longer see her there in her chair. The 
large family is fast being re-united. Grandmother was the 
last of her family to go home. 

July 18, 1853. — To-morrow I graduate; and then, 
what ? I feel badly that I must then step out into the 
world, and buffet in its crowd. But why fear ? There is 
real work to be done, and any earnest man can do it. 

The succeeding letters, addressed at different times 
to different persons, define distinctly his theological 
position in reference to the prominent disputed ques- 
tions of the day. 

The point of difference between us is — is it not? — 
whether Jesus was the bearer of a revelation from God to 



XX 



MEMOIR. 



man ; whether he was any thing more than the best and 
purest of philosophers. I think he was, and cannot recon- 
cile the other supposition with his own account of himself. 
If he was all purity and nobleness and wisdom, it seems 
to me he could not have been deceived on such an impor- 
tant point as this. He must have known whether God was 
speaking to his soul, and whether he had a divine mission 
in the world to work out. The purest, the noblest, and 
most far-sighted soul the world has ever seen, the one 
which has held most intimate communion with God, and yet 
grossly deceived as to his relation to him ! It seems to me 
impossible. 

The miracles too. Jesus refers to these often, not as 
proofs of his great goodness and purity, but as proofs of 
his divine mission, of his Messiahship. It is strange that he 
should not have known the source of his power, and should 
have drawn so false a conclusion from them. Then, too, 
what reason do we have for thinking that they were in 
consequence of his perfect goodness ; and that any one 
of us could do the same, if we were as good? If this were 
the true state of the case, we should expect that there 
would now be some small miracles wrought, answering to 
our poor attainments in religion ; but the best man cannot 
heal the sick any more than the worst. Then, too, his own 
resurrection cannot be explained on this supposition. It 
certainly could not be his qualities of purity and goodness 
which raised him from the dead. Then it must have been 
a miracle wrought by God ; and for what purpose ? We 
say, to prove that Jesus was his inspired messenger to men. 
This surely alone would be enough to take him out of the 
ranks of common men, and prove his divine mission. He 
was the ' ' only Son," as we think, in the sense of best 
loved, most obedient, faithful, and true. 

But can we not imitate him ? We can strive to do our 
humbler work, as faithfully as he did his more exalted one. 
He can still be our example. You ask about the text, 



MEMOIR. 



xxi 



44 Be ye perfect as your Father is perfect." Is it not plain, 
if taken with the connection in which it stands ? Does it 
not mean, Be perfect in the exercise of benevolence, by 
do ing good to all, enemies as well as friends ? The word 
44 as " means, not in degree, but in the same way. Under- 
stood in this sense, we can be perfect as God is perfect. 

We differ, then, as to the mission of Jesus in the world. 
No doubt it is an important difference, and I wish we could 
think alike on that point : perhaps we may yet. But surely 
I think you earnest in your belief, and conscientious. I 
don't know that I can say I am 44 pained" at it : I cer- 
tainly cannot find fault with you for exercising your right, 
nay, more, your duty, of thinking for yourself. 



Beyond any special doctrine, I count it the main differ- 
ence between Liberal Christians and the other sects, that 
we consider as Christians, and admit to full fellowship, all 
who, whatever may be their beliefs on minor points, accept 
Jesus as God's ambassador to men. The Baptist says to 
the Calvinist, 44 You cannot come to the communion, be- 
cause you have not been immersed.'" The Orthodox says 
to the Methodist, "You cannot join my Church, because 
you do not believe in election ; " and to the Unitarian, 
"You cannot join it, because you do not believe that 
Christ is equal to the Father, and the Holy Ghost is a per- 
son, also equal to the Father." 

On the other hand, we own as Christians all who believe 
that God sent Christ into the world, to lead us to know 
and do his will. They may make mistakes on other points ; 
but they are still Christians, and we have no right to shut 
them out from the fold of the Lord. When one would join 
my Church, he has simply to sign his name to a 44 confession 
of belief in Jesus Christ." The Calvinist, the Methodist, 



xxii 



MEMOIR. 



the Baptist, the Universalist, and the Catholic can all 
come to the table of their common Master, and remember 
Christ together. 

This seems to me a fundamental difference. But, as a 
matter of fact, I suppose that most Unitarians agree upon 
certain of these disputed points, which we consider impor- 
tant, though not essential. You wish to make up your 
mind upon these. Where shall you go to find what is the 
truth in regard to them ? Christ is our only authority. It 
was he who brought down God's truth to men. The whole 
of Christianity must be contained in the words of Christ ; 
the apostles did not contradict his teaching, neither could 
they add to it. The words of Christ, few as they are, are 
the summary of Christian doctrine. I would not under- 
value the Epistles, but would merely say that the Gospels 
ought to be your first text-book. Your question should be, 
What does Christ say of this point ? Let me recommend 
to you a little book, in which all the words of Jesus are 
placed by themselves. I will send it to you : please read it 
carefully, noting down each passage which seems to bear 
on the doctrine you are investigating, and, putting all he 
says together, see what he teaches about it. Go and sit 
at the feet of the great Teacher, and learn from his own lips 
what is truth. Let me map out your course of study in 
that book. 

One great question of controversy is as to the nature of 
God. What is his character and relation to men ? Is he 
a stern Sovereign, or a tender Father ? Is he One, in the 
simple, intelligible sense of that word ; or is he composed 
of the "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," each of these 
equal to the other in every divine attribute ? Is there any 
thing said about the Trinity? What does Christ say 
about it? 

Again, what does Christ teach of himself? Is he the 
second person of the Godhead ; or does he represent him- 
self as being, not God himself, but the Son of God, whom 



MEMOIR. 



xxiii 



the Father sanctified and sent into the world to declare the 
divine will to men, and to draw them to obedience to that 
will? Can we believe him, when he says, "My Father is 
greater than I " ? 

What does Christ say of the Holy Spirit ? Is it a per- 
son, and God ; or is it the influences which the Father sends 
to his children? Here is enough to keep you busy for 
some time. I think, if you study the words of Christ thus, 
you will be rewarded with a firm and intelligent faith ; and, 
moreover, I feel sure you will come substantially to those 
convictions which are called Unitarianism. 

About this time occurred an honorable transaction, 
which illustrates his high-mindedness, and which was 
not made known until after his death, being first pub- 
lished by the lawyer who was employed in the interest 
of another party. The true statement of the case is 
this. His grandfather had given to Abbot a farm, to 
be held in trust for him by his father, who was to pay 
an annuity to Dr. Abbot. As it was inconvenient to 
collect the income from this property, Mr. Smith, 
having taken legal counsel, determined to . dispose of 
it, and to invest the proceeds of it. He accordingly 
sold and conveyed it as an estate in fee, receiving 
a fair price for it as such. According to law, however, 
he could not convey an estate which he did not legally 
possess, and his right to this terminated with his life. 
It then became the property of Abbot, who could 
legally claim it, and annul the contract which had been 
made during his minority. The land had now become 
very valuable, from its proximity to a large manufac- 
turing town ; and it was estimated to be worth at least 
twenty thousand dollars. Moreover, the little property 



\ 

Xxiv MEMOIR. 

left by Abbot's father had, by untoward circumstances, 
become considerably diminished, and even what re- 
mained was not considered secure for the family. There 
were four children to be supported and educated. Mr. 
Smith had died. Abbot was advised that he could 
legally cancel the agreement, and leave the purchaser 
to recover damages. The present proprietor was an 
entire stranger to him. But, though he was fully 
aware of what the law authorized him to do, he did not 
think that it would be right for him to do it. His 
father had intended to transfer his interest in the 
property; and if millions, instead of thousands, had 
been involved, it would have made no difference to 
him. He cheerfully signed a deed, renouncing all 
claim to the land in question ; and, though he re- 
ceived no acknowledgment, not even thanks, for what 
he had done, he never repented of signing the re- 
lease. He used afterwards to speak laughingly of his 
escape from riches, and to say how very probable it 
was, that, if his father had retained the farm, it would 
have been an injury to him ; and that the struggles 
which the family were obliged to encounter had united 
its members more closely together, and made them 
all self-helpers. Abbot likewise relinquished his share 
of the inheritance to his half-sisters, when he became of 
age ; so that he began life with that principle of self- 
sacrifice which characterized him to its very close. 

At the exhibition of the Divinity School in July, 
1853, he read an essay on " The peculiar character 
of the Gospel of John, and its relation to the other 
Gospels." After leaving Cambridge, he preached in 
various places, until in November he assumed, for six 



MEMOIR. 



XXV 



months, the charge of the church in Dublin. N.H., where 
his uncle, Dr. Leonard, had formerly been settled ; 
and he subsequently visited Buffalo. He received in- 
formal calls from several societies ; but he finally 
accepted the invitation of the First Congregational 
Parish in TTest Cambridge to become their pastor. 
The ordination took place on the 22d of June, 1854 ; 
Ephraim Peabody, D.D., of Boston, preaching the ser- 
mon. On the 27th of the same month, he was married, 
by his grandfather, to Maria Eliza Edes, daughter of 
Samuel and Maria Edes, of Peterborough. 

The following extracts from his diary and corre- 
spondence reveal the spirit with which he entered on 
his profession. 

Oct. 3. 1853. — I preached at H two Sabbaths, 

and they invited me to give up my Dublin engagement and 

be with them. At X , too. I believe they like me. 

I can hardly understand how my sermons are so acceptable, 
and must be on my guard against vanity. It would be 
a sin to preach myself, and not the gospel. 

Dfx\ 2. 1853. — I confess I hardly comprehend the 
secret of my success hitherto, so much above my expec- 
tations. 

Dec. 31, 1853. — I have much reason to be grateful. 
I have been more successful in my profession, much more 
so than I deserved, or than my talents would warrant me to 
expect. 

March 4, 1854. — Yesterday, I received a letter from 

W , asking me to come there for a month, to preach 

as a candidate. This I most certainly shall not do. I be- 



xxvi 



MEMOIR. 



lieve I estimate myself fairly ; and I am quite certain that 
I am altogether incompetent to fill a place like that. I feel 
as if I could do some good in a country parish, and grow 
there ; but a thing like this is altogether out of the ques- 
tion. 

March 13, 1854. — Though H may not be so easy 

or desirable a place as some others in my reach, ought I 
not to be willing to sacrifice a little ? It would be a good 
inauguration of my ministry to begin with a sacrifice. 
Have I a right to refuse it? 

I saw the "Martyrdom of Huss" this morning, for the 
last time, I suppose ; and right sorry I am for it. JSTo paint- 
ing has made so deep an impression on me as that. I 
always feel more devotional, and go away the better, for 
looking at it. It is not strange to me that the Catholics 
can defend the use of pictures in churches. I can conceive 
now how they might be very important helps in devotion. 
That figure of Huss somehow seems more to come up to my 
ideal of Christ in the garden in that last prayer, " Father, 
if it be possible," &c, than any I have ever before seen. 
But isn't there need of more martyr spirit and a deeper 
zeal in our ministers ? Have we a right to pick the best 
parishes, the one that will pay the most and have the least 
to do ? I don't like the notion of having ministers' brains 
set up at auction to the highest bidder. I feel more in- 
clined to — — , not as the most agreeable place, or the 
most advantageous, in a worldly point of view; but as the 
one where I shall grow the most, and may do the most 
good. 

March 25, 1854. — West Cambridge is a beautiful town, 
with some hills, which are quite an attraction to a Peter- 
borian. Yet all the influences of the place would tend to 
make me a student, rather than a true minister. ISTow, 



MEMOIR. 



xxvii 



is a far less eligible place. But have we a right to 

pick the best parishes? Isn't there a question of duty 
about it? That is just what troubles me. I can settle at 
once that Cambridge is the pleasantest and easiest place ; 
but am I most needed there? 

In a year and a half after his settlement, the parish 
were called to pass through the trial by fire. On the 
last night of the year 1855, he preached an impressive 
sermon from Judges iii. 20 : "I have a message from 
God unto thee ; " and, in eleven hours after, the church 
was in ashes. The society met for worship in a hall ; 
and at this time those members of it who lived in Bel- 
mont withdrew, and organized a separate religious 
society in that new town. Notwithstanding these dis- 
couragements, our friend cheered his people by earnest, 
kindling words; and, on the 1st of January, 1857, just 
a year from the burning of the old edifice, the new 
meeting-house was dedicated, with appropriate services.^ 

On the 20th of December, 1856, his cousin Frederic 
died, who had been his earliest playmate and his con- 
stant friend, f This loss afflicted him very deeply. " It 
has been the greatest sorrow of my life so far." 

On the last day of January, 1859, his grandfather 
passed on at the advanced age of ninety-three. The 
relation between the two had been most intimate and 
touching. The old man had fitted him for college, and 

* See page 181. 

f Frederic A. Smith, M.D., son of Dr. Albert Smith, Professor of 
Materia Medica and Therapeutics in Dartmouth College. It is great- 
ly to be regretted, that Abbot's correspondence with his cousin, 
which was continued through nearly all their lives, as well as his 
letters to his step-mother, both of which would have been very illus- 
trative of the boy and the man, have not been preserved. 



xxviii 



MEMOIR. 



had been his counsellor through life. His hopes had 
all been realized. After the ordination, he left his 
home in Peterborough, and came to live with his grand- 
son in West Cambridge. They were now companions ; 
and the younger sought continually to repay the atten- 
tion and kindness which he had formerly received. 
When the venerable man failed, Abbot was with him ; 
and, as the sands of life were nearly run, he lifted him 
on to the bed, and he died in his arms. It was with a 
beautiful expression of mingled sadness and resigna- 
tion on his countenance, that he announced that the 
patriarch had gone so quietly to his rest and reward. 

In October, 1859, our friend, being worn by constant 
labor and needing recreation, went, by the advice of his 
physician, to St. Louis, and was absent nine Sundays. 
Before he returned, he wrote, " I feel sure that I am 
all right for five years more," thus unconsciously pre- 
dicting almost the exact time when he should be no 
longer here. 

In the autumn of 1860, he was informed that he could 
receive a call from one of our largest and wealthiest 
parishes, if he would give the least encouragement that 
he would accept it. This he was unwilling to do. 

In the spring of 1861, he was invited to take the 
charge of the Independent Congregational Church in 
Barton Square, Salem. But he declined to go ; and he 
resolved then, that he never would leave his people. 
From this time began that complete flow of love and 
respect toward him which the possibility of separation 
had awakened, and which continued uninterrupted until 
his death. He even told his parishioners from the pul- 
pit, that he feared lest he should love them too well, 



MEMOIR. 



XXIX 



and lest their tokens of good-will should lead him to 
neglect his duty by withholding from them unwelcome 
truth. * 

In September, 1861, he took into his family a poor 
boy, who had attracted his attention and who gave prom- 
ise of some talent, for the purpose of aiding him in 
obtaining an education. For two years he supported 
and instructed him, sending him to school and after- 
wards to Exeter Academy, where he paid his bills for 
the first term ; hoping that then he would secure what 
was equivalent to a scholarship, and be enabled to re- 
main until he should be fitted for college. The result 
did not answer his expectations ; yet he said, that, as 
long as he lived, he intended always to have one young 
man under his care, whom he could assist in a like 
manner. Earlier in life, at Peterborough, hearing of a 
poor boy who had a strong desire for an education, he 
went to see him, and persuaded his grandfather to take 
him into his family, while he himself heard his recita- 
tions until he was prepared for Exeter. This was a 
very difficult and disagreeable task, though his pupil 
proved a very successful man. Our friend considered 
it his duty to be constantly engaged in benefiting others ; 
and, since there were enough who would care for their 
bodies, he devoted himself to the improvement of their 
minds and souls. He made it a rule to set apart one- 
tenth of his yearly income to charitable purposes, and 
he often exceeded this amount. 

In March, 1863, he preached for three Sundays in 
Baltimore ; visiting, in the mean time, Falmouth, Wash- 
ington, and Fortress Monroe, and being the guest of 
* See pages 208, 209. 



XXX 



MEMOIR. 



Major- General Hooker at the headquarters of the army 
of the Potomac. 

In April, 1865, he accepted an appointment from 
the American Unitarian Association to go as their 
agent and missionary for two months to Norfolk, Va. ; 
the way having been opened, by the success of the 
Union armies, for the preaching of Liberal Christianity, 
and for commencing the religious as well as political 
reconstruction of the South. He had for a long time 
felt it to be his duty to go to the war ; and, in addition 
to this, he thought that he ought, for the sake of his 
parish, to see more of the world, that, by enlarged ex- 
perience, he might become a better minister. " I have 
kept myself too much at home ; I need to go abroad 
more, and so be more useful to my people." If he had 
consulted his own feelings, however, he would not have 
gone. It was a sacrifice for him to leave his society ; 
it was a still greater sacrifice for him to be separated 
from his family. He was strongly attached to his 
home. The letters he wrote daily, and sometimes 
twice a day, while he was absent, prove how strong 
were the ties which bound him to it. In one of them, 
he says, " I think this will be a good experience, and 
will do me good, if it does not anybody else. Don't 
worry about me. I shall gain in health by the change ; 
but I dread to be here all alone for so long. I keep it 
out of my mind as much as I can, and think only of 
each day." 

On the last Sunday but one before he left home, he 
delivered a sermon, from Heb. xiii. 1 : " Let broth- 
erly love continue;" and, on the last Sunday, he 
preached from the significant text, 2 Sam. xxiv. 24: 



MEMOIR. 



xxxi 



" I will not offer unto the Lord my God that which 
doth cost me nothing." TTe saw him for the last time 
at the National Unitarian Convention in New York, 
where he seemed buoyant and hopeful, looking forward 
with great interest to his mission. In a letter dated 
New York. April 6. 1865. he writes : "I mean to make 
my eight Sundays tell in some good work, which will 
repay the sacrifice. The prospect brightens as I go 
nearer. I think, from all I can learn, the prospect is 
good. TTe have had a splendid meeting. The denomi- 
nation has redeemed itself. The feeling, ten to one, of 
the delegates, is for old-fashioned Unitarianism in belief, 
but with all charity for doubters and fullest liberty. 
The radicals are only an insignificant minority among 
the ministers. There is a splendid feeling of union and 
fellowship." 

Leaving Xew York on Thursday night, he reached 
Norfolk by way of Baltimore on Saturday morning ; 
and on Sunday he wrote : " Well, I am in the best of 
health, rested from my journey." He also addressed 
on this day the following letter to his people : — 

Norfolk, Va., Sunday, April 9, 1S65. 

My dear Friends, — My heart and my thoughts are 
with you to-day, as you come up to our pleasant church, 
where so often we ha.\e met and prayed together. In im- 
agination, I stand in the pulpit, and look abroad over the 
pews, to catch a glimpse of the dear familiar faces, as you 
are gathered on this beautiful Sabbath in the great congre- 
gation. May I not here, a stranger in a strange land, have 
some share in your thoughts and in your prayers ? 

I feel as if I were your missionary, and in some sort 
ought to report to you ; but as yet I have hardly surveyed 



xxxii 



MEMOIR. 



my field to see how large it is, or to which part of it I 
would better first direct my efforts. Even after I have 
done this, I may have very little to report. There may be 
no very important visible fruits to show for our two months' 
sacrifice. Be it so. I can only try; and, if tangible results 
should not appear to follow the effort, I must trust Him 
who never lets the good seed die, however weak the sower. 
The man may fail ; but God's truth, never. 

If I shall find that I need any supplies, or that you can 
help my work, I shall not hesitate to make my need known. 
I shall not probably find so much necessary, with head- 
quarters here in this city, as if I were at the front. 

May God watch over all our homes, and keep us safe 
from every danger ! 

Your friend and pastor, 
To my People. Sam l . Abbot Smith. 

His first week was occupied in seeking out those 
persons in Portsmouth and Norfolk who would at- 
tend his services, in engaging a hall and making other 
necessary arrangements, as well as in visiting the 
hospitals and the schools for the freed people. The 
weather was very hot and rainy for several successive 
days ; and he complained of headache and debility. On 
Saturday came the news of the assassination of Abra- 
ham Lincoln, which created an intense excitement; 
large numbers of paroled prisoners having just arrived 
from the rebel army, the people mostly sympathizing 
with secession, and the city being guarded by colored 
troops. On the next day, our friend delivered a forcible 
discourse, which was the last one he ever wrote, and 
of which he said, "I have the satisfaction of knowing 
that one good Union sermon was preached in Norfolk, 
the like of which has probably never been heard since the 
city was built." 



MEMOIR. 



xxxiii 



On Wednesday of the following week, he went to 
Richmond, visiting the chief places of interest in the 
city and in the vicinity, walking to a hospital in the out- 
skirts, and returning to Norfolk late on Saturday 
night. After this exhausting excursion, he preached 
twice on the next day, although the rest of the party 
were too fatigued to attend his ministrations. His 
choir also having failed him, he was obliged to conduct 
the services continuously, with no intervals during 
which he might have time to rest. On Monday, he 
felt so weak as scarcely to be able to walk to the post- 
office. On Tuesday, he was still weaker. On Wednes 
day, he was thought by the physician to be threatened 
with intermittent fever; but he was advised not to 
start for home, lest the disease should come upon him 
while he was on the road. On Friday, he w T rote to 
one of his parishioners : " As to my work here, don't 
expect any thing of me. This wretched Virginia climate 
takes all the stiffening out of a man ; and I have found 
that I have, in spite of myself, to walk slowly and do 
little, very little. You don't know how much I miss, 
not only my home, but my kind people, especially on 
Sundays: though I have a very interested audience 
yet it is not my West- Cambridge people. I shall be 
thankful, thankful to turn my face homewards." 

He preached on Sunday, April 30, all day, for the 
third and last time ; and so weak was he, that at noon 
he felt obliged to take a glass of wine, the first he ever 
drank in his life. He wrote also that he would return 
home at once, if it would not be deserting his post. 
On Monday, he was troubled with a cough, especially 
when he lay down, and with a high fever. His lungs, 

c 



xxxiv 



MEMOIR. 



however, were pronounced sound ; and it was thought 
best, as he was not supposed to be in danger, that he 
should remain until he should be rid of his cou^h, since 
it would be suicide for him to encounter our east winds 
after being in a warm climate. On Wednesday, he 
addressed a second letter to his dear people. On Fri- 
day, he confessed to his family that writing letters had 
been very hard for him, since he had done nothing and 
been nowhere, and he was afraid that they would notice 
it, and be alarmed by it ; but that they had reason to be 
very grateful that he was no worse. 

On Sunday afternoon, May 7, realizing, doubtless, 
his situation, which seemed not to be understood by the 
physician, and having taken leave of his kind friends, 
he started suddenly for home. He came alone, suffer- 
ing intensely on the way from exhaustion, being deaf 
and partially delirious from typhoid fever, and so feeble 
as to be unable even to procure a glass of water or to 
write in his note-book. It was almost a miracle that 
he reached home on Tuesday morning alive. When he 
entered the house, so changed was his appearance and 
his voice that his own children did not know him. He 
had been absent for five weeks, during the last two of 
which he had been prostrated. When it was known 
that he had returned dangerously ill, the anxiety and 
interest were intense among all classes. The poor, 
especially, were deeply moved ; and one man said that 
he would willingly give up his daughter, if it would 
save his life. He lived only twelve days. During one 
of his lucid intervals, he sent a message to his society, 
as follows : " Tell my people, my dear people, that 
I have had eleven happy years with them, and trust 



MEMOIR. 



XXXV 



that I have done them some good. I feel that I shall 
work for them still, and perhaps more efficiently than 
here. Give my love to them, and bid them all good-by 
for me." His wife he endeavored to comfort and sus- 
tain, by telling her that he would be with her, and that 
God would take care of her. On the day before he 
died, he attempted to indicate what lesson from the ser- 
vice-book he wished the children of the Sunday school 
to use on the following Sunday ; but he could not make 
himself understood. Afterwards, a heavenly smile ir- 
radiated his countenance, betokening the bliss which he 
had begun to enjoy. On Saturday, May 20, at twenty 
minutes past five in the afternoon, at the age of thirty- 
six years, he was translated. 

The funeral services were held on Wednesday after- 
noon, in his own church ; an address being delivered by 
President Hill, and prayer offered by Professor Pea- 
body. Never before was there such a manifestation 
of deep grief witnessed in the town. The whole com- 
munity seemed to share in it ; and there was not one 
who did not mourn as for a personal friend. A very 
long procession was formed after the services, which 
followed the remains into the cemetery, where all that 
was mortal of the Christian minister and martyr was 
laid to rest. On the following Sunday, a discourse 
was preached by Rev. Dr. Stebbins, from the appro- 
priate text, Eccl. xii. 5 : fc< The mourners go about 
the streets." * For weeks and mouths afterwards, and 
until long after the frosts had come, his grave was kept 
covered with wreaths and beautiful flowers ; and the 

* This Discourse, together with the Address, and the Farewell 
Sermon of Mr. Smith, was published. 



xxxvi 



MEMOIR. 



children of the Sunday school erected a tablet of white 
marble, on one side of which is inscribed, 

OUR DEAR PASTOR. 

And on the other, in harmony with his own w 7 ords,* 

Samuel Abbot Smith. 
Born April 18, 1829. 
Died May 20, 1865. 

"He went about doing good/* 

The esteem in which this good man was held was 
universal throughout his parish. He w r as indeed greatly 
loved by his people, who, in various ways, testified 
their appreciation and gladdened his heart by acts of 
thoughtful kindness and generous gifts. Being young 
and inexperienced when he was ordained, he was re- 
garded rather as one of them, than as one over them ; 
and if, in the first few years, when he was not fully 
known and had not yet matured, he made less impres- 
sion, his influence deepened with every succeeding year, 
his character lent added force to his words, until, during 
the last part of his ministry, no preacher was more 
gladly seen in the pulpit than he ; and he had the rev- 
erence and affection of every member of his society. 
This same strong feeling of attachment also existed 
generally among those who did not belong to his con- 
gregation. He won golden opinions from all sorts of 
people; and persons of the most opposite tastes and 
temperaments agreed in respect and love for him. 
There was scarcely a laborer in the place whom he did 
not know, and for whom he had not a pleasant word, 
* See page 241. 



MEMOIR. 



xxxvii 



and who was not ready to call down blessings upon him. 
In many touching ways did the poor manifest their 
interest and gratitude, and their desire to do something 
to honor his memory. In many homes, for a long time 
after he had passed away, his name could not be men- 
tioned without tears. And beyond the limits of the 
town, in all our churches, where he had many friends, 
the sorrow which was expressed proved how deeply his 
loss was felt by the community. 

Among his professional brethren he was a general 
favorite; no member of the Ministerial Association to 
which he belonged being more welcomed, as none could 
be more missed, than he. With the other denomina- 
tions in the tow r n he held the most pleasant and friendly 
relation. He joined with them in a union service on 
Fast and Thanksgiving days ; at his request, their min- 
isters all took part in the dedication of his new house 
of worship ; a prominent member of the Orthodox 
Church expressed his own estimation of his labors and 
character by a very liberal contribution in behalf of 
his family ; # and Rev. Daniel R. Cady, pastor of the 
Orthodox Church and Society, gives this testimony to 
his goodness and unsullied worth. 

I am glad to learn that a memoir of Rev. S. A. Smith is 
to be published. We were neighbors for more than nine 
years, and our intercourse was of the most friendly and 
cordial description. Differing radically in our theological 
sentiments, we yet found wide fields of thought and action 
in which we could sympathize and co-operate ; and I soon 
came to respect him as a man, and to love him as a per- 
sonal friend. He won my regard by some qualities which 
he possessed in an eminent degree. ^ 

* Three sons and a daughter, with their mother, survive. 



xxxviii 



MEMOIR. 



He was remarkably pure-minded. In the freedom of 
the most familiar conversation, there was no tone, no 
glance, no allusion, which betrayed a coarse mental asso- 
ciation. I have rarely met a man of his age who im- 
pressed me so deeply with the feeling, that, through all his 
life, he had kept himself from the influence of debasing 
thoughts and corrupting ideas, as he. 

He had unusual kindness of heart. A smile, a cordial 
grasp of the hand, a cheerful word, were ready for all. 
And these were evidently not put on, but were only the 
natural expression of what he really felt. He was sincere, 
and transparent in his sincerity. I think, of all his qual- 
ities, unfeigned and unfailing kindness of heart was the 
most prominent. One of the first things which specially 
drew me toward him, was seeing him come, with his horse 
and carriage, to take a poor woman to ride, who was ill 
with consumption, and not a member of his congregation. 
And this was a specimen of his daily life. He was emi- 
nently thoughtful of the sick and the poor. 

He was a good citizen. He was far from seeking office ; 
he had none of the petty ambition which is gratified by 
appearing to be busy and needful in public affairs ; and yet, 
when any duty was put upon him, he was prompt and 
faithful in its discharge. I remember his saying to me, 
when elected a member of the School Committee, that "he 
had hoped the labor would not be laid upon him ; but, as 
the town had chosen him, he did not feel it would be right 
to decline." 

During the war, the government had in him a firm sup- 
porter, the soldiers a fast and generous friend. I shall 
never forget my last interview with him, just before he left 
for the South. I was ill, and was about to leave home for 
an absence of six months. He came to my room to bid me 
good-bye. He spoke with great interest of the army work 
which he hoped to accomplish. He had felt through all 
the war, he said, that he was doing little for the country, 



MEMOIR. 



xxxix 



little for its defenders. And now that the opportunity of a 
few weeks' service offered itself, he could not find it in his 
heart to refuse ; and he thought that the experience he 
should gain would fit him better for his own ministerial 
duties. And so we parted. In the unforeseen and inscru- 
table providence of God, I was to return in the autumn, 
restored to health : he was to come back in a few weeks, 
only to die. Yet he leaves his family and friends the 
priceless heritage of a good name ; and the citizens of the 
town, with no distinction of sect or of party, will cherish 
and revere his memory. 

In his countenance, Mr. Smith resembled Thomas 
Starr King. He had a very youthful and almost boyish 
appearance ; and, even after he had preached many 
years, he was supposed to be a recent graduate from 
college. He was young also in his feelings. He en- 
tered, with all the freshness and enthusiasm of a child, 
into every project which was presented to him. But 
he was not a child in his understanding. They who 
imagined that they were to be instructed by a mere 
boy, soon learned not to despise his youth. On one 
occasion, after preaching a very striking sermon, he 
wrote to a friend, " One of the people said, that some 
who had thought, when I came here, that I was too 
young, came to the conclusion, that morning, that I was 
old enough for them." 

His natural utterance was very rapid ; but his de- 
livery in the pulpit was more constrained and artificial. 
This was, however, from no pretence or affectation, but 
rather from a desire to avoid the opposite fault. His 
style was simple, as was the man. He liked short sen- 
tences and Anglo-Saxon words ; he used the most fa- 
miliar phrases ; he discarded all superfluous terms ; and 



3d 



MEMOIR. 



he abhorred "fine writing." He felt that one should 
preach as he would speak, and not as he would read to 
the people. 

He depended on nothing but the substance of his 
message to gain for him a hearing. He was earnest 
and impressive ; and he strove, through conviction, to 
reach the heart. His sermons were plain, personal, 
practical, and often like familiar talks to his people. 
His frankness of speech was remarkable ; as when, in 
speaking of the small attendance at church in the after- 
noon, he said, if the reason were the incompetency 
of the minister to make these services useful, then it 
was wrong for them to have such a minister, and it was 
their duty to obtain another, who possessed suitable 
qualifications. So, in a sermon on " Obedience to Phys- 
ical Laws a Moral Duty," he said : " There are sins 
of the table. We can find them laid down methodically 
in all our fashionable cook-books." He wrote, as he 
declared,* always to meet some special want, or to 
remove some individual doubt or difficulty. He felt 
that a sermon should not be an ethical treatise, or a 
philosophical discussion ; and that its aim should be, 
not to please, but to do good. " I believe," he remarked, 
in a paper read before ministers, " one great fault with 
us is, that we preach all our lives upon subjects ; make 
dissertations and essays, instead of sermons. These may 
be well enough in their place ; but their place is the 
" Examiner," rather than the pulpit. Ought we not to 
seek for objects, rather than subjects?" "Remind me 
of my sin, I pray you," he said to his people, " if I 
give you literary lectures, instead of religious sermons ; 
meditations and words, instead of prayers." 

* See page 202. 



MEMOIR. 



xli 



His views in regard to preaching on the exciting 
topics of the day are given elsewhere.* If he did not 
discuss these subjects in the pulpit, it was not from fear 
of man, but because he thought that he could best pro- 
mote the cause of freedom and humanity in other ways. 
No one doubted where he stood in reference to these 
questions. He desired that his people should consider 
all their political duties in a religious light; and so 
wisely did he plead for righteousness in all things, that 
none could take offence, and those who differed most 
widely from him were among his truest friends. In the 
cause of temperance he was actively enlisted from his 
youth, feeling deep concern for those who were given 
to dissipation, and often using his personal influence to 
withdraw them from it. The war, however, from the 
very beginning, commanded his heart, his tongue, his pen, 
as it finally did his life. His stirring words to the volun- 
teers are, in part, printed in this volume. His book, en- 
titled, " West Cambridge on the Nineteenth of April, 
1775," f was originally delivered as an address in behalf 
of the Ladies' Soldiers' Aid Society, i His patriotism 

* See pages 197-201. 

t Besides this Address, he wrote also a lecture on " Language," 
and one on "Newspapers; " he printed several lighter pieces in the 
" Contoocook," now " Peterborough Transcript; " and he published 
also a sermon on " The Work and Way of Life," from Prov. 
iv. 26, in the "Monthly Religious Magazine," for December, 1855. 

X In this historical narrative, he says: "West Cambridge has 
not yet had justice done her for the part she took in these scenes. 
Histories and orations have had little to say about her. It has been 
the 'Battle of Lexington and Concord;' it should be the 'Battle 
of Concord, Lexington, and West Cambridge.' Within our town 
the battle raged fiercest; more than a third of the patriots who died 
that day fell within our limits. We have more precious dust gar- 
nered under yonder stone than any other town has treasured be- 
neath its monument." — Pp. 4, 5. 



xlii 



MEMOIR. 



was a part of his religion. He was untiring in his 
devotion to the soldiers, sending them gifts, visiting 
their families, and always advocating the cause which 
they had gone forth to maintain. His name is now 
inscribed on that illustrious roll of heroes, who have 
sacrificed all that they had for their country. 

He was a model pastor. His relation to his people 
was one not merely of official duty, but of personal 
friendship. Every one's joys and sorrows seemed to 
be his particular concern. He had no favorites in his 
parish, and each one felt that he w T as specially interested 
in him. "It seems," he said, " as if other ministers had 
their particular friends ; but I have none : all are 
equally near to me." How intimate this connection 
was between him and his people may be learned from 
his own words.* ^Considering his society as a large 
family, he had the same regard for all its members, and 
he wished them to feel a mutual interest in each other. 
He was constantly devising measures for increasing the 
activity and usefulness of the church. The Sunday 
school was his idol, and no portion of the parish were 
more attached to him than were the children. He was 
always interested in their plans, and thoughtful of their 
happiness ; and their visits to his house were looked 
forward to, as eagerly as to any entertainment which 
could be afforded them. He was constantly endeavoring 
to promote their moral and spiritual welfare, and to 
awaken their religious feelings and convictions. "What 
can the minister do for the young people of his parish ? " 
was a subject which he introduced for discussion in the 
Ministerial Association. He felt that he ought not to 
* See pages 206, 207. 



MEMOIR. 



xliii 



neglect those who composed one-third of his congrega- 
tion ; hence he preached to them occasionally of their 
duties. 

He was a minister-at-large among the poor. He 
sought them out, and persuaded them to come to church. 
He called upon them in their homes, and befriended 
them whenever they were in need. He was no re- 
specter of persons. Social position made no difference 
to him. He often took with him in his sleigh numbers 
of Irish children, saying that it was the only pleasure 
which they had. Among the poor, his praises are 
heard from every mouth. He had for a long time been 
contemplating a project, which he would have executed 
if he had lived, of establishing a mission-school, in the 
upper part of the town, for the benefit of the children 
of that neighborhood ; and, in addition to his other 
duties, he proposed, when he returned from the South, 
to gather together in his house, on Sunday afternoons, 
after the public worship, such persons as did not attend 
church, and to hold suitable religious services for them 
there.* He seemed to feel that it was his duty to crowd 
into his life as much as possible, and, when any great 
want existed, to supply it himself. 

He was unwearied in his attentions to the aged, the 
sick, and the bereaved. Many affecting incidents might 
be related of his frequent visits of sympathy and com- 
fort, which relieved the monotony, enlivened the weari- 
ness, and dispelled the gloom of the invalid and the 
mourner. Never sparing himself, and with overflowing 
sympathy, he seemed literally to bear the griefs, and to 
carry the sorrows, of his people. This, indeed, proved 
* See pages 204, 205. 



xliv 



MEMOIR. 



too heavy a burden, and made it necessary for him, 
from time to time, to seek a respite from his labors. 
When it is considered that both his father and mother 
died of consumption, and that he was expected to 
be able to preach but for a short period, since it was 
feared that every year might be his last, it is astonish- 
ing that he accomplished so much, and that he lived so 
long. 

His vivacity, equanimity, and sportiveness made him 
a most delightful companion. Taking a hearty interest 
in everybody and in every thing, his cheerfulness was 
contagious ; and, like the sunshine, it gladdened and 
warmed all upon whom it beamed. He enjoyed life to 
the full ; and his joy expressed itself in his sparkling 
eye, his radiant countenance, and his winning smile. 
When he received a favor, words could not express the 
gratitude which his whole frame spoke. He impressed 
strangers by the very tones of his voice, the grasp of 
his hand, and his affable, engaging, and cordial manners. 
To see him was to love him and to be interested in 
him. All considered it a privilege to have him under 
their roof ; and his presence was like a heavenly influ- 
ence. As a friend, he was faithful and true ; and to his 
family, notwithstanding his many and various duties, 
he was constantly devoted, never speaking of his cares 
and trials, but ready to assume any charge, and feeling 
happy in so doing. How religious he was in his house- 
hold, and how conscientious, both as a husband and 
a father, the following extracts from letters to his wife 
and to his eldest son show : — 

I long to enjoy the new house with you. We have a 
home now, in a better sense than ever before. Let us 



MEMOIR. 



xlv 



make all the inside and spiritual as good as the material 
part of it. Let us begin at the beginning, and not let there 
be the first wrong thing. For my part, I mean to begin 
with more methodical study, more faithful performance of 
duties, &c, &c. Let us dedicate it, first, to love; second, 
to discipline ; third, to religion, transfiguring and com- 
pleting both love and discipline. 

I hope you will begin on dear Jesus' day * to do what 
he wants you to do, and to be his little disciple, and then 
you will be happy all your life, and will make those who 
love you happy ; and the dear angels will be so glad that 
you are such a good boy. 

I was glad to hear that you led the blind man out of 
church. I know it made you happy. It always makes us 
happy, if we do a good thing. 

While I was at the hotel, f I had been talking a good 
while with some officers ; and by and by one of them 
came and said, " You are wanted up stairs." I did not 
know but that there was some trouble, and said, " What? " 
He said, * ' The doctor wants you to come up to his room, 
and take something to drink." ]STow, Abbot, would you 
have gone ? I told him, " I thank you ; but I never touch 
it. Excuse me." What would you have done? Would 
you have told him you were a temperance man, if he 
laughed at you? 

So unfailing was his amiability, that it is difficult to 
conceive of his being out of temper, or of his saying a 
harsh or unkind word. He always spoke well of every- 
body, and endeavored to find excuses even for those 
who had not done exactly right. He never lost his 

* Written to his little boy on Christmas Day. 
t Written in Norfolk, April 13, 1865. 



xlvi 



MEMOIR. 



natural artlessness and simplicity. He remained always 
a child. One who had not seen him for twenty years 
declared that he was the very same boy that he was at 
school. But, though he was simple-minded, he was no 
simpleton. Perhaps he was under-estimated, because 
he was so unassuming and retiring. His humility con- 
cealed his strength. He seemed to be the most pliant 
and yielding person ; but no one was more firm and 
independent in following out his convictions of duty. 
He had great moral courage, joined with great prac- 
tical wisdom and good sense. This, together with his 
purity, his disinterestedness, and his knowledge of hu- 
man nature, fitted him for that most delicate and 
difficult of all duties, which, when necessary, he suc- 
cessfully discharged, that of being a peacemaker and 
reconciler of those who had been at variance. 

His disposition to make the best of every thing, and 
to look upon the bright side of life, was so determined, 
that, when any real misfortune came, it was a common 
remark in the family, " I wonder what good, Abbot will 
see in that." Perplexities which would have troubled 
others seemed not to disturb him ; and, wherever he 
might have been placed, his life would have been as 
smooth and bright and happy as it was. He had a firm 
faith in a special Providence, which made him confident 
that all things would issue well, and which led him to be 
resigned when his expectations were disappointed. He 
cherished a perfect filial trust in the heavenly Father. 
And he did not think that we should find the next 
world to be so very different from this, but that we 
should continue there the life and the employments which 
we have begun here. In a letter to his cousin Anna, he 



MEMOIR. 



xlvii 



writes : " I have felt sometimes as if I would willingly 
die, if I could know of the things after death, the lift- 
ing-up of the veil, the being born into a new life, and 
endowed with new powers ; and then the meeting with 
old friends, and seeing Jesus and John, and the holy 
men of time past. And it is not a lonely place to 
which we are going when we die. It is the same path 
which our dear ones have trod before ; and we go to 
meet them." 

It may, perhaps, be said that we have alluded to no 
faults, and have therefore omitted an essential element 
of his character. We would not pretend that he was 
perfect ; for we should be rebuked by his own words. 3 * 
But we have inquired in vain, of those who knew him 
best, for his defects. Mr. J. Field, deacon of the 
Orthodox Church, says : " I used to hear of Mr. Smith 
in his boyhood and youth, in his native town. He was 
regarded by all as a remarkably faultless boy in every 
human relation. Some said he was faultless ; others, 
that, if he was not entirely so, he came nearer to it 
than any other boy they ever knew." Dr. Ephraim 
Peabody, when asked by gentlemen from West Cam- 
bridge if this young man was suited to be their minister, 
replied, u You will want, perhaps, to have him preach 
sometimes about sin ; but he knows nothing about it." 
From all quarters we have heard the same testimony : 
" he was a pattern man ; " " the most perfect character 
I ever knew." A classmate says, " I should truly 
prize any memory of a ruffled temper in him ; for his 
disqualification for anger was a failing in him, it seems 

* See page 154. 



xlviii 



MEMOIR. 



to me." He certainly realized to us the character of 
Nathanael by his guilelessness, his purity, and his un- 
blemished life. 

And yet this goodness, which seemed to us a natural 
grace, was the result of inward struggle and of con- 
stant endeavor. Among his papers are found several 
memoranda, written for his own private use, in which 
we see how scrupulously he dealt with himself, and 
how he strove to counteract his natural tendencies. 

April 18, 1850. — I think I am wanting in self-confi- 
dence. I don't value myself as highly as I ought. And 
there is a want of energy, also, in my character, which pre- 
vents me from pushing myself into notice as much as is 
necessary to success. 

I am apt to speak pettishly about little things when I 
don't mean it, and thus give pain to others. 

I am not considerate enough with regard to the failings 
of others, and too often speak severely or sarcastically of 
them. I talk too much about the news with regard to 
people, and give my opinion about their characters too 
freely. I am not so obliging as I should be. 

I am not attentive enough to my grandfather when he 
reads or converses with me, and suffer myself to grow ner- 
vous too easily. 

I have, I fear, very little religious feeling : though my 
head assents, my heart is not moved. I don't recollect 
when I have been deeply moved on religious subjects. 
I know not how to remedy this fault, for one can't manage 
his feelings. I am not reverent enough, but sometimes 
speak lightly of holy things ; and, in hearing prayer, my 
thoughts wander. I have too much regard to what is 
thought of me ; not independent enough of public opinion : 
it may not force me to do what I think wrong, but some- 
times prevents my doing what I think right. 



MEMOIR. 



xlix 



I will try from this time forth to correct those faults 
which I have before mentioned. I will try to improve my 
time more fully. 



Dec. 31, 1852. 

On this last day of the year, I will try faithfully to esti- 
mate the progress I have made in it. 

Intellectually, I feel that my mind has matured, and that 
my judgment has grown better by this year of discipline. 
How much more might have been done, if I had but used 
the rich opportunities which God has given me ! How much 
time I have wasted, or worse ! 

But it is useless to record progress. It will be better to 
estimate faults, and make resolutions against them. 

FAULTS. 

I am in the habit of wasting much time for want of defi- 
nite occupation. 

My mind wanders in hearing the prayers of others or 
the liturgy. 

I do not pray enough, and with devotion enough. 
I do not read the Scriptures as much as I ought, or 
think of divine things and religion. 

I speak too much of persons, in common conversation. 
I have not perfect purity of thought. 

RESOLUTIONS. 

I will try to improve my time better than I have done, 
and accomplish more in it. 

I will try and command my attention in public prayer. 

I will pray in the morning when I rise, when I com- 
mence my duties of the day, and before I go to bed ; and 
will strive to put my heart into it. 

When at Cambridge, I will read a chapter from the Old 
Testament, and one from the New Testament, each day, 

d 



1 



MEMOIR. 



and reflect on it. To that and to prayer I will give at 
least twenty minutes each morning. I will think more of 
God. 

I will be more guarded in conversation. 
I will strive to keep my heart with more diligence. 
These resolutions I will strive to keep faithfully through 
the coming year. Samuel Abbot Smith. 



Jan. 1, 1854. 

DUTIES. 

Mental. — Subject my powers more to the will, and be 
able to write and think when I wish. 

Domestic. — Be less impatient at others' faults and little 
annoyances. 

Social. — More prudence in judging of others' charac- 
ter, and talking of persons ; more liberality in pecuniary 
matters. 

Professional. — Try to feel my sermons more, both in 
writing and delivery. My prayers, as far as may be right, 
more extempore ; but guard against their being vain and at 
random. Try to feel always that God is indeed hearing me 
in my services. 

Religious. — Read the Scriptures mornings, and pray be- 
fore writing my sermons. In hearing prayer, not to be inat- 
tentive, but join as much as I can. Avoid making prayer 
a vain form. 

Moral. — Not to praise, unless I really feel it ; to be 
discriminating in my judgments, if I make them at all. 



Writing to his wife, from St. Louis, in December, 
1859, he says : 

I have resolved to make my next year a useful one to 
myself and to my parish. There has been too much of 



MEMOIR. 



lazy, slipshod work thus far. Now I mean to do my best, 
and follow along the straight line of duty, if I can. Let 
us join in this, and you and I make next year for ourselves, 
and those about us, just what it ought to be, and only that. 

I don't know as I ought to be away from my parish. 
You say, Mr. P.'s death is a warning to us not to over- 
work ; but it seems to me a warning as well to do our 
work. 

These memoranda, which reveal his inward life and 
spiritual experience, and which he never supposed 
would be seen by any one, are published for the sake 
of the encouragement which they give. We are too 
apt to think that the most spiritual persons were born 
holy, and did not become such by striving, watchful- 
ness, and prayer. But similar confessions have been ut- 
tered by all the saints. To this estimate of himself may 
well be appended the testimony of those who knew 
him intimately from childhood, and who observed him 
through all his life. The annexed letter is from one 
who could fully appreciate his fine qualities : 

To analyze Abbot's character seems like reporting music 
in words. Its beauty was in its simple, complete wholeness 
and purity. I think he was the happiest person I ever 
knew ; happy, because he always accepted the position for 
which he was best fitted, and felt that his nature found its 
development there. We cannot make a striking picture 
of him, for there is no depth of shadow, no salient points 
to catch the high light: all is gently toned into quiet, 
serene beauty. God did not try him with fearful storms 
and burning fires, for there seemed no dross to purge 
away; but he was evenly developed by duties. What 
might have seemed heavy trials to others (as the failure of 
his eyes in the midst of his studies) he bore so sweetly, 



lii 



MEMOIR. 



that we hardly remember that he had crosses. Doubtless, 
in the depths of his own heart, he had struggles with doubt 
and temptation ; but they left no mark upon the surface. 
I am sure he must have known spiritual struggle ; because, 
when still very young, before he was ordained a minister, 
he gave great strength and comfort to a young friend of 
the most delicate spiritual nature, but who y partly from 
physical causes, suffered from morbid states of doubt and 
melancholy. 

He had more humor than wit : a rich, racy enjoyment of 
human nature in its variety of manifestations came to him 
from his father's family. A perfect simplicity of character 
preserved him from any undue self-consciousness or saint- 
liness. His goodness never reproached you ; it was always 
mild, refreshing, genial. His truth was perfect ; you were 
sure of him, sure of his statements ; his own personality 
did not color them. Only a persistent optimism prevented 
his ever dwelling on the dark side. This cheerfulness was 
not the shallow enjoyment of a heart which shrinks from 
grief; it was the trusting faith which feels a Father's 
beneficent love so constantly, that every thing is beautiful 
in its light. 

" They who God's face can understand 
Feel not the pressure of his hand. : ' 

An anecdote of his childhood will illustrate the simple 
integrity of his nature. At Exeter Academy, the question 
was given out for discussion, Which quality is the most 
useful to the world, genius or application ? It happened, 
that to him was assigned the advocacy of genius. This was 
by no means easy to him ; for the perceptive and reflective 
faculties entirely preponderated over the imaginative, and 
he had nothing of what is specially called genius. I talked 
over the subject with him, showing him how genius opened 
the wide fields which patient industry toiled and cultivated ; 
that the most persevering mariner might have coasted the 
shores of Spain for ever, if the genius of Columbus had not 



MEMOIR. 



liii 



dared to cross the trackless ocean, trusting to an idea. He 
took my thought readily, and wrote his theme upon it ; but, 
at the last, he felt bound to state his own views, and added, 
"But, after all, I think application is more important than 
genius." I said then, " I am willing you should be a cler- 
gyman ; for nothing will persuade you to advocate any 
thing but what you believe to be true." 

He had a boy's natural love for stories of the Revolution 
and other heroic deeds. He was quite fond of pictures. 
His desire for knowledge was constant and universal. Al- 
ways open to the reception of truth, he was always an 
interesting companion, equally willing to impart or receive 
information, with no thought of display. His life was 
serene, useful, happy, accepting the humblest duties, 
gathering joy from the simplest pleasures, justifying life 
here by its beauty and meaning, even if that were all, 
and yet always ennobled by a light caught from heaven, 
always suggesting higher aims and purposes that only God 
and eternity could answer. 

Another, who stood in a yet nearer relation, and who 
watched his development and progress from youth to 
manhood, writes : 

His name had been with us, through his whole life, a 
synonyme for all beautiful and heavenly graces. There 
were no angles, no sharpnesses, no faults, though many 
individualities. Every thing about him, from his earliest 
years, was a harmony, with no single discord ; and so pure 
and sinless was his nature, that it was often playfully dis- 
cussed in the family circle, whether it was really a merit 
for Abbot to be so much better than the rest of us, seeing 
he inherited a nature so much more exalted and pure than 
ours. To us who had lived in his sunny presence, rejoiced 
in his unselfish devotion and love, and felt the safety and 
protection of his strong, manly spirit, he could only be 



liv 



MEMOIR. 



Abbot, sui generis, not to be Compared with any one else, 
or described. Every heart must go out to him, and justice 
would seem to strangers exaggerated praise. I recollect 
when a sister, after describing the many excellences of a 
very dear friend, wished to sum them up in the highest 
praise, she wrote to me, " He is almost as good as Abbot : 
no one, you know, can come quite up to him ; but he ap- 
proaches nearer than any one I have ever seen." That 
was our family feeling ; and we only knew, that, love others 
as we might, there could be but one Abbot, and we must 
all struggle very desperately to approach near the lofty 
purity and elevation of his character. And yet he was 
simple always, and free and easy as the veriest child, en- 
tering into all the pursuits and interests of the family, and 
doing constantly little and great kindnesses to all its mem- 
bers. Was it not wonderful, how this simplicity was pre- 
served to the very last moment of life ? How humble he 
was ; how unconscious of his mental and moral superiority ; 
how glad the simplest pleasures and kindnesses would make 
him ; and how even childlike he would seem and express 
himself in his naturalness ! 

He found always the brightest side of every event ; and 
so unconquerable was his cheerfulness, that we could im- 
agine no situation from which Abbot would not extract 
something pleasant. I recollect, after a very busy season, 
and at a time which seemed to his friends the most unpro- 
pitious possible for such a visitation, he was attacked with 
scarlet fever. Some one condoled with him, and regretted 
that it would so frustrate his many plans. "Oh!" said 
Abbot, " it was just what I needed : the rest and quiet will 
do me much good ; " and his patience and sweetness did 
make it salutary. Who but he would have looked for and 
found this in that ugly disease ? 

It struck me as remarkable, when I looked at him in his 
last sleep, the little change in the sweet expression of his 
face time had wrought. There were no hard lines, no deep 



MEMOIR. 



lv 



furrows ; but it was a beautiful outgrowth and maturing of 
the innocent child. 

He inherited from his father a strong love of mechanical 
inventions and discoveries ; and this was so marked, that 
an uncle, a man of great practical wisdom, used to say, 
44 Do not hinder Abbot from following the bent of his 
genius, which is for mechanics." When a boy, the scien- 
tific portion of his father's library was chiefly used and 
studied, and all sorts of experiments made in machinery, 
steam-engines, and chemical combinations. At eight years 
of age, he commenced the study of the Greek language, as 
the basis of his education ; and he has often told me how 
easy and delightful this early mastery of the language 
made it to him through life. Latin, too, he learned early 
and thoroughly; and well do I remember the beautiful 
picture of Abbot and his grandfather reading together the 
works of Cicero in the original, the year of Dr. Abbot's 
death: the calm, benevolent, and sanctified face of the 
octogenarian ; and the bright, radiant countenance of the 
young man for whom he had done so much, as he read 
aloud to him the glowing pages. Both are now studying 
in a higher school ; and, on that loftier plane, may not that 
sainted old man, whose very presence was a benediction, 
and whose calm wisdom and divine trust were never sur- 
passed, be carrying to still purer and more exalted heights 
the many young men he trained and educated here ? 

Abbot, although so gentle and quiet, was fond of boyish 
sports, and, wherever he went, was a favorite with even the 
roughest of his sex. There was about him, from a child, a 
positiveness, a manliness, and an unflinching moral recti- 
tude, which protected him from the insult and injury it 
was well known he would never return. The preparatory 
course at Exeter was passed through without a stain on 
his character. When he left, one of the teachers said to 
me, 44 You have no anxiety or fear for Abbot, I suppose ? " 
" ~Not one," was the answer, 44 for any thing but his health : 



Ivi 



MEMOIR. 



who ever thought of fearing that Abbot could yield to a 
temptation to do wrong ? " And he never did. As faithful 
in his studies as in all his duties, he conscientiously com- 
mitted every lesson and mastered every difficulty, so that 
he entered college unconditioned, and graduated with high 
honor. His grandfather educated Abbot, and, on his 
leaving the Divinity School, gave him a receipt in full for 
all the money paid for him. No expense was spared to 
furnish him with all helps to literary excellence ; and it was 
Dr. Abbot's rare privilege to see the fruits of his wise in- 
vestment. Abbot, at the age of twenty-one, assumed the 
guardianship of his three sisters, their father dying when 
the youngest was only a year old. This care continued 
until they came of age, and was as judicious and wise as all 
the other acts of his beautiful life. One of them, the one 
Abbot most dearly loved, was in the spirit-land to welcome 
him home ; and the others mourn the loss of a brother en- 
deared to them by every holy affection. Is it strange that 
our hearts sink within us, when we feel that that sustaining 
presence is never more to be visibly with us in our hours of 
suffering and sorrow, and that his removal so suddenly, so 
unexpectedly, paralyzed us all ? 

You know all his later life. You know all his devotion 
to his family, to his parish, and to the claims of every 
human being with whom he came in contact. You know 
how entirely unselfish he was, how conscientiously he dis- 
charged every duty ; and you know, alas ! that the clear, 
steady light of his sunny presence, of his holy example, 
and of his unflinching Christian faith is withdrawn from 
us here except as a reflected blessing. 

He died at his post in the full and conscientious dis- 
charge of his duty ; and let us thank God that no motives 
of ambition, no temptation of larger parishes, fuller sal- 
aries, or more pretentious pulpits, ever made him for a 
moment hesitate to refuse them all. How he loved his 
parish and his people ! I think I hardly ever received a 



-MEMOIR. 



Ivii 



letter from him. in which he did not tell me of their kind- 
ness and devotion. I recollect, when I told him once that a 
member of the committee of a wealthy city parish said to 
me he would receive a call at once if he would speak only 
a word of encouragement that it would be accepted, he 
said, M I cannot speak that word ; for, although it is one of 
the only two churches I should ever covet, I shall not leave 
my people while I feel I can do them good ; and I never 
realize how dearly I love them, till a proposition like this 
is made to me." 

I could say more : but it would still be only "Behold, 
how we loved him ! 

Rev. John H. Morison. D.D.. who, in fit terms, com- 
memorated the life and services of the grandfather, 
speaks thus of the character of the grandson : 

I inquired of his old friends, of schoolmates and rela- 
tives, who were with him through all his early years. 
Their testimony was all the same. He never did a wrong 
thing : he never seemed to have a wrong thought. The 
ugly feelings which even good boys sometimes give way 
to, never seemed to come to him. He was always sunny. 
Xo disturbing ambition raffled the smooth current of his 
intercourse with his fellows ; no jealousy or rivalry ever 
impaired the sweetness of his disposition. And yet he was 
not a fool, even in regard to the evil that is in the world. 
He knew it, as a pure spirit from another world might 
know it. However near he might come to those who cher- 
ished it, his instincts kept him from it, and never allowed it 
to soil the purity of his life or his mind. TTe cannot say 
of him, as Wordsworth does of Milton, that his ,; soul was 
like a star, and dwelt apart. n Xo one could be more com- 
panionable than he was : but no star, in its loftiest seclu- 
sion, is less touched by what is gross or unclean. 
It was a pleasant picture that we used to see in that 



Iviii 



MEMOIR. 



cheerful parsonage: the grandfather, slender, 4 * erect as 
a sunbeam," his eye kindling with more than youthful 
enthusiasm as he discoursed on some great theme or some 
great wrong, his white locks reaching down with a saintly 
glory from his patriarchal head ; the grandmother, para- 
lytic, patient, affectionate, trusting, reverently looked to 
and watched over with a thoughtful tenderness, which it 
was touching to see. The mother had passed away ; but 
her spirit seemed to linger still in the home and with the 
child of her love ; while the offices of a mother were per- 
formed still with a mother's untiring watchfulness and 
affection. These were the daily and hourly influences 
under which the young child grew into consciousness and 
intelligence. 

Behind the house, on the borders of the garden, was a 
river, varying in size and motion with all the changes of 
the year. Before the house was a steep hill ; and, when he 
ascended that, he looked down into a beautiful valley, the 
silvery stream threading its way through it ; and beyond, 
on all sides, were mountains, lifting up their everlasting 
heads. 

These were the surroundings. Within them was the 
boy. But the life which grew up into proportions so har- 
monious, with such freedom in all its movements, so fresh, 
so full of activity, was marked by no unusual incidents. 
No particular anecdotes are told of it. He was very much 
like other boys, except that he seemed not to have their 
faults. He was affectionate and beloved ; he was intelli- 
gent and painstaking. Yet he labored so spontaneously, 
with so free a spirit, that it did not seem as if he could be 
tired any more than the brook or the summer wind. 

And this, perhaps, was one reason why he was allowed 
to wear himself out, without any one seeming to perceive 
it. His work appeared to us like play. He did it appar- 
ently so freely and so easily that his friends hardly recog- 
nized it as work. He did in this way many things which 



MEMOIR. 



lix 



would have worried the life out of another man ; and yet 
no one thought that he could be tired. It was only his 
diversion and pastime. His household cares and parish 
duties seemed all of this character. They were entered 
upon with a gayety of heart which made us forget how 
deeply they must have gone into his soul, reaching down 
into his finer sympathies, laying their heavy exactions on 
his inward resources of thought and life. And so it hap- 
pened, that he who had met the most solemn and laborious 
responsibilities as if they had been his holiday pleasures, 
had really been wearing himself out from within ; and, 
when extra services were demanded and bodily disease 
came, there was no reserved strength to fall back upon, 
and he died. For this same reason, I think, we hardly did 
justice to our friend's intellectual powers and efforts. 

His life was as pure as a blank sheet : and yet great 
things were written in it. If not visible to us now, we 
shall read them hereafter, where he sees them now to his 
surprise, in the Lamb's book of life. 

Rev. Abiel Abbot Livermore, President of Mead- 
ville Theological School, pays the following tribute to 
the memory of his relative and friend : 

I knew him as a golden-haired boy, with sunny face and 
blue eyes, always full of affection and vivacity. But, for 
the last fifteen years, I have not known much of him, except 
by occasional visits and letters, generally on some business 
matter. But, whenever I met him, he seemed to be a child 
still in all the most beautiful characteristics of childhood, 
while he had the wisdom and weight of a man. Few lives 
have been more harmonious than his ; flowing on with 
scarcely a ripple from the fount to the sea, with no muddy 
torrents of evil, no hoarse cataracts of violence and pas- 
sion, and no desolations of sin. A more successful life in 
all respects it would be hard to find. As boy and man, 
as son and parent, as husband and friend, as citizen and 



lx 



MEMOIR. 



Christian, as student and active worker, lie touched life 
at all points, struck every chord, and brought music, not 
discord, from each. Now he is master of the heavenly 
harp. He could have done more for the world, had he 
lived, than the world could do for him. He had lived out 
the world's term-time, though but half the appointed 
length, and was ready to go into the first or senior class. 
There is something really thrilling and beautiful in thinking 
that in this dull and smoky earth such a sweet and charm- 
ing life has been passed, so practical and useful, so imme- 
diate to all the needs of the time, and yet so remote, so 
transcendental and celestial, that it seems, now it is all for 
ever gone and lapsed into silence, to be more like a rare 
and happy dream than a piece of our hard human life. 
Happy we who saw the vision pass of so much goodness, 
and such a charming, attractive goodness too ! Happier he 
who was and lived it all, and lives it still more perfectly 
than ever ! We, too, must needs follow on to love and 
admire, and look up to the place where the heavens were 
cleft and received him in. 

But I perceive how hard a task you have to make 
any such impression of the character of Mr. Smith upon 
others, as it made on us who knew and loved him. This 
fine aroma, once exhaled, is gone for ever. The very 
rotundity and completeness of each part of such a life is 
an obstacle to making it seen and felt by others. Then I 
think Mr. Smith had so many of the graces, that people 
did not recognize at first that he had the energies likewise, 
masculinity and femininity blended, the type of the perfect 
human being. 

He, too, gave his young life for his country, a free-will 
offering. But perhaps, when he set out on that last mission 
South, it was in the divine programme that he should 
keep on, and visit his lately departed brethren on the other 
side, and give them the grand countersign of his own 
life, Duty. 



MEMOIR. 



Ixi 



I think the case of Mr. Smith is a vivid illustration of 
the fine possibilities of the Christian ministry in these latter 
days. Here was a man, who could not be called orator, 
poet, or philosopher ; but his saintly goodness carries us 
farther into the Godhead than the best things done by 
orator, poet, or philosopher. They, in their highest flights 
of genius, describe the thing which he simply was, but 
could never describe. Of all the products which this earth 
yields from off her thousand fields, what gem of the mines, 
what flower from the vales, shines so bright, or smells so 
sweetly, as the consummate soul, moulded in the beauty, 
dyed in the tints, and fresh with the vitality of the divine 
and the immortal, whose "life was like one long, bright 
summer day, all the way to heaven " ? 

Excuse these broken words, and take them, not for what 
I have done, but for what I have not done, but would do, 
for the memory of my loved and ever-loved kinsman and 
younger brother. His mother was dear to me, and he dear 
for his mother's sake and his own. jSTow they are once 
more happy together. 

What can be added to these words ? A spirit so 
pure, unselfish, and heavenly-minded, a life so devoted to 
doing good, commands our highest reverence and admira- 
tion. It shows to us, as no words can do, the beauty of 
holiness and the blessedness of self-sacrifice. It is another 
illustration of the power of faith, of which it is the 
legitimate product. It is, moreover, encouraging to our 
nature to know that such excellence has been attained 
among us ; and that one, with ordinary talents, laboring 
in an humble sphere, and living but half the allotted 
length of human existence, could yet be what he was, 
and accomplish the work which he performed. Such 
goodness can never die : its memorial is immortal. 



SERMON S. 



SERMON S. 



I. 

FIDELITY IX OUR SPHERE, HOWEVER 
HUMBLE. 

Rom. xvi. 14: "Salute Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermas, Patro 
bas, Hermes, and the brethren which are with them." 

npHIS last chapter of Romans is, I know, to 
some not very interesting. They find little 
more of instruction in its verses than in the dry 
details of genealogy with which Matthew begins 
his Gospel. It might have been interesting to the 
church at Rome ; but of what use to us is that 
long list of names, that catalogue of the brethren 
whom Paul held in affectionate remembrance ? 
What do we know of Asyncritus and Phlegon 
and Hermas and Patrobas and Hermes, and the 
brethren which are with them ? To me there is 
much which is both interesting and instructive 
in these slight allusions, these unknown names, 
which constitute the postscript of a letter so many 
centuries old. The man Paul seems to stand 
forth in them, with his generous human heart 
and his devoted friendships. No brotherly act, 



2 



FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, 



no friendly service, no sacrifice for the great 
cause which he had so much at heart, had he 
forgotten. He sends them this affectionate salu- 
tation, as we in our letters wish to be remembered 
to our friends. He sends it as a token that he 
remembered them still, even amid all the diffi- 
culties and perplexities which harassed him there, 
in that distracted church at Corinth. In his let- 
ter, he had been discussing the highest questions 
of philosophy and religion ; and yet he finds room 
for kind greetings to these individual friends. It 
does, indeed, shed a tender and an amiable light 
on his strong and manly character. 

But this is not the point which is most interest- 
ing for us to contemplate. It comes nearer to us 
than that. Who were these Christian brethren, 
to whom Paul thus gratefully wished to be re- 
membered ? They were not among the great 
names of the Imperial City. History has taken 
no note of them, in her record of the illustrious 
men and women of that age. This simple salu- 
tation, and perhaps a crumbling slab in the damp 
catacombs where the Roman disciples buried their 
dead, are all the record of their memory which 
has survived. Their names may have been writ- 
ten in heaven, but they were seldom mentioned 
on earth. I suppose they were men and women 
like ourselves, moving about in their narrow cir- 
cle, little known beyond it. What could they do, 
they would think perhaps, for the great world? 



HOWEVER HUMBLE. 



3 



It was sunk in idolatry and in vice : what could 
they effect towards enlightening and reclaiming 
it ? If they did have the truth, and if they prac- 
tised virtue, the world knew nothing of it, and 
cared nothing for them. The busy crowds of the 
great city hurried by them, never asking who they 
were, or what they thought, or how they lived. 
Whatever others might do, they certainly could 
do nothing for their religion or for mankind. 
They had no great duties, except they might be 
called upon to wear the crown of martyrdom ; 
and then it would be all forgotten, as the brutal 
shout of the multitude rose above the roar of the 
wild beasts in the Roman amphitheatre. 

What could such men do ? And yet think what 
there was to be done ! To these men, and a few 
others like them, was intrusted God's truth, the 
truth which leads to salvation. Through them, 
and, so far as human sight goes, through them 
alone, must the religion of Christ be preserved, 
and become triumphant. On the one side was 
heathenism, with numbers, wealth, power, intel- 
lect, inherited prejudices, ancient custom, every 
thing in its favor. On the other was a little 
company of humble, unknown men at Rome, 
another at Corinth, another at Ephesus, and a 
few more, here and there, in the great cities ; 
not a distinguished person among them, not a 
man of influence ; perhaps two or three Roman 
citizens, but mostly despised Jews, scattered then 



4 



FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, 



as now over the world for purposes of traffic. 
What tremendous odds were against them ! 
And yet, most remarkable of all, they triumphed, 
and that speedily. Not three hundred years 
passed, before the banner of the cross waved 
over the Roman armies ; before paganism had 
lost its hold on the popular mind, and the peril- 
ous day had arrived when a Christian emperor 
sat on the throne of the Caesars. Who, now, were 
the human instruments in accomplishing this 
stupendous revolution ? These humble Chris- 
tians at Rome and Colosse and Galatia, who 
never dreamed all the while that they were ac- 
complishing any thing ; they did it. 

But how did they do it ? They did it in the 
same way that you and I must do whatever work 
God has given to us. They did it unconsciously. 
They were blindly working at the foundation, and 
thought not of the stately temple which should 
hereafter be reared upon their labors. They had 
not a conception of the momentous results which 
would follow their efforts. They builded greater 
than they knew. Their separate acts did not 
seem to them very important. It was the small 
duties of life, for the most part, which weighed 
on their consciences. They gave themselves to 
these little duties and these separate acts with a 
true-hearted Christian purpose. They believed 
in Christ; they felt that he had given to their 
souls the one thing needful ; and, believing and 



HOWEVER HUMBLE. 



5 



feeling thus, they confessed him before men, 
trusting that he would, as he had promised, 
confess them before the Father in heaven. 
Neither fear of danger nor dread of reproach, 
neither natural diffidence nor morbid self- dis- 
trust, kept them back. It was their duty to give 
their influence, whatever it might be, for his 
holy cause. And so, openly and frankly, they 
acknowledged him as their Master ; and they 
strove, not indeed to find great sacrifices which 
they might make and heroic deeds of service 
which they might do, but, better than that, to do 
whatever Christian duty required, whether it 
seemed great or small. They did not choose their 
work; but whatever devolved upon them, they 
performed faithfully. If their path led to sacri- 
fices, they made them cheerfully ; if to dangers, 
they shunned them not : but they went on calmly, 
trusting that God would not desert them. In 
short, they tried to be Christians ; and though 
they might not understand how their humble 
obedience could hasten the coming of Christ's 
kingdom, yet they worked in faith, and left results 
to Him whom they served. They labored on, each 
in his own sphere, humble though it seemed ; 
and, unknown to themselves, accomplished a 
great work, hardly inferior to that of Paul him- 
self. Through such plain, uneventful, yet Chris- 
tian lives, did Christianity triumph over all the 
might of paganism. 



6 



FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, 



Now, my friends, we all are standing in the 
same position which these Roman believers held 
in the days of Paul. We do not think that we 
have any thing of importance to do, that any one 
is influenced by our example, that it matters 
much to the interests of the world how we live. 
Let great men, we say, do their duty scrupulous- 
ly, and something may come of it; let men in 
prominent positions be virtuous, and their ex- 
ample amounts to something. But our work is 
of no importance. We are not known, except in a 
very narrow circle ; and, even in this little sphere 
in which we are now moving, our memory will not 
live a score of years after us. Our humble obe- 
dience to Christ, our humble sacrifices for our 
fellow-men, can do nothing to hasten the coming 
of the kingdom of God. We cannot be so sure of 
that, my brethren. Acts are indeed ours ; but 
the issue thereof is with God only. We know 
not but he may choose one of the humblest acts 
which we do to-day, as that on which the great 
future shall hinge. We are working in the dark. 
We are all unconscious what we are doing, for 
good or for evil. Here are immortal souls all 
about us, taking from us, perhaps, their direction. 
It is a fearful thought. What train of conse- 
quences have we set in motion to-day ? God 
only knows. 

Nor are we an exception. There have been very 
few men, who have done great things for the world, 



HOWEVER HUMBLE. 



7 



that have been conscious what it was they were 
accomplishing. Did the Pilgrims think that their 
tempestuous voyage and dreary landing on this 
wild shore would be any thing for posterity ? Did 
the signers of the Declaration of Independence 
dream what momentous results would follow that 
simple act ? Did Luther comprehend what effects 
would follow from his translation of the Bible, 
there in the lonely castle of Wartburg? We 
have not those works to do, perhaps ; but our ser- 
vice has some meaning in God's sight, and we 
know not how great, until the future interprets it. 
Be sure of this, that God never permits any act 
of obedience, however humble, or any sacrifice, 
however obscure, to fall to the ground. You can- 
not tell what good will come from the good, nor 
what evil will follow from the evil, which you do. 
Have you in the past week made a sacrifice for 
others ? That may now, though unknown to you, 
be sustaining some tempted brother in his hour 
of heavy trial ; and from that sacrifice may come 
to him strength and inspiration. Have you done 
to-day a difficult act, because Christ requires it ? 
Trouble yourself not for the result. God will 
make it bear fruit. He gives the increase, though 
you may not see it. Do you not remember in the 
parable, when the Son of man separated those on 
the right hand from those on the left, and said 
to the former, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 



8 



FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, 



foundation of the world/ 9 that they asked, 
" When saw we thee a hungered and fed thee, 
or thirsty and gave thee drink ? " They did not 
remember when they did this. They were not 
conscious of having done any thing which others 
would recall. But the Lord remembered it, as 
an act done to him ; and it made all the difference 
between " Come, ye blessed," and " Depart, ye 
cursed." The seed may look like a little grain 
of sand, when you commit it to the ground. 
But it is not sand ; it shoots up, and brings 
forth of its kind. You know not how great a 
plant may spring from it ; but you know that it 
must be of its kind, good from good, evil from 
evil. The greatness of the result is not your 
concern. You have only to see that it is of the 
right sort. And there is no security for us, in 
this fearful uncertainty, except always to do that 
which we know is right. Then, let the result be 
as it will, it shall be well. We need have no 
fears. The more God shall give of increase, the 
better it will be. 

But there are some who have an honest shrink- 
ing from duties, in the fear that they may not 
perform them with entire faithfulness. And so 
far does this go, that they neglect altogether some 
particular duties rather than run the risk of im- 
perfectly performing them. It may be an honest 
mistake, but how great a mistake ! Suppose the 
sailor, in the time of peril, when ordered to his 



HOWEVER HUMBLE. 



9 



post on the topmast, should refuse to go, for fear 
that he could not do his work in seaman -like 
shape ? He need not fear : to do the best he can 
is all the captain wants. So is it with the Cap- 
tain of our salvation : all he asks is, that we do 
the best we can. It is not Christian, to let our 
fears get the better of our duty. We must re- 
solve on this, that every duty shall be done ; hard 
or easy, whether the world laugh or applaud, it 
shall be done. Whether we can do it well or ill, 
leave that with Him who commands. He will ac- 
cept the effort as a true service, and pardon what 
is deficient. This is the spirit, to be faithful in 
small things and in great alike. " In the morn- 
ing sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not 
thine hand ; for thou knowest not whether shall 
prosper, either this or that, or whether they both 
shall be alike good." 



II. 



WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 

1 Cor. iv. 9: "We are made a spectacle unto the world, 

AND TO ANGELS, AND TO MEN." 

TT)AUL'S thought here is, that he is standing 
in the arena, the great amphitheatre extend- 
ing on every side about him, rising rank after rank 
of seats, with thousands of eager eyes centred 
upon him, watching every look, every motion, 
every act ; and that audience not alone of flesh 
and blood, but even the angels from above look- 
ing down upon his labors and struggles. And 
who was it that claimed to stand in this august 
presence ? An humble Jew, wandering from 
city to city, friendless, poor, persecuted, preach- 
ing to a few whom he could gather to hear him, 
what he felt were the words of life ; and he a 
spectacle to the universe, both to men and to 
angels. A bold word, that ! And yet is it not 
literally true ? The smallest acts of that man, 
the most common words which his pen wrote or 
his brain dictated, are to-day treasured up for 
instruction and consolation by millions. Many 
centuries have passed since he wrought his 
work ; the marble theatres, from which he drew 



WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 11 

this illustration, have crumbled ; and most of the 
proud cities in which he taught are as if they had 
never been : but this man's audience is still 
widening, and his work still going on. Fortunate 
he was to know and feel it then ; for it was a 
thought full of inspiration and strength. 

Would you think me presumptous, if I applied 
these words of Paul to Christian believers now, 
and said that it is true of us also, that we are 
a spectacle to men and to angels ? We are en- 
tirely unconscious of being thus conspicuous. 
We feel as if our struggles and contests and 
trials, though very important to us, were nothing 
to any one else. And, when the day is over, we 
think it has passed and is forgotten ; probably 
we ourselves have almost forgotten it. My friends, 
you cannot cut adrift so easily from what you 
have done and what you have been. The acts, 
the thoughts, the struggles, the sins, of this last 
week, have been open to other eyes than yours ; 
and they are not gone, though you have forgotten 
them. "A spectacle to men and to angels ! " 
Yes, and they will appear again to you one day. 
Whatever has merely to do with things material, 
however important it seems, must pass away ; 
but the most trivial thing connected with the 
soul lasts, as the soul lasts, for ever. Its record 
is imperishable. I have seen recorded in the 
sandstone the mark of the little rain-drop, which 
fell, one day in the ages past, upon a sea-beach 



12 WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 

of the primeval earth. We can know from it 
the very direction of the wind, in that transient 
shower of ten thousand centuries ago. When 
you deal with such a thing as a human soul, you 
are making impressions on something which is as 
plastic as the clay, and yet more enduring than 
the solid rock. 

These records are not only enduring, but are 
often strangely brought out before the eyes of 
men. We have no choice what acts of ours shall 
be thus made manifest. We know not when we 
are standing on the stage, a spectacle: it may 
be to-day. It is enough to make us tremble, to 
think that at some time our weakness, our folly, 
our sin, may be all laid bare, so that the world can 
see them. Do you suppose, that when Judas 
went to the garden to consummate his purpose of 
betrayal, he felt that the world's eye was upon 
him? It was in the darkness of the night, and 
who would ever care to reveal the secret ? And 
when, driven by remorse, he went and hanged 
himself, he thought, no doubt, that, in this world 
at least, both himself and his crime would soon 
be forgotten. How would he have felt, had he 
known that that night's base work was done in 
the presence of a world, and that his own name 
would go down to the latest generation as a by- 
word and a reproach? 

As it is with the evil, so is it with the good. We 
know not but that one act of Christian sacrifice 



WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 13 

may, in God's providence, be linked with conse- 
quences which shall make it a spectacle to the 
world. Do yon suppose that the woman, when she 
did a little act of kindness for the Master, thought 
that her trifling deed would ever be remembered, 
except perhaps by Him to whom she paid this 
homage and respect ? And yet, " wheresoever this 
gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there 
shall also this, that this woman hath done, be 
told for a memorial of her." Who can tell that 
his slight sacrifices for the same Master may not 
be likewise honored ? On one cold December 
day, a little company of ship-worn voyagers dis- 
embarked upon a bleak and uninhabited coast. 
Their thoughts were of thankfulness to God, that 
he had spared them, and led them safely to the end 
of their voyage. But God has made that day's 
landing historic : the very rock upon which they 
stepped from the unsteady boat is sacred. As 
De Tocqueville says, so finely, " Here is a stone 
which the feet of a few outcasts pressed for an 
instant, and the stone becomes famous ; it is 
treasured by a great nation ; its very dust is 
shared as a relic. And what has become of the 
gateways of a thousand palaces ? Who cares for 
them ? " 

We know not upon what the embalming touch 
of time may fall. Perhaps before the name of 
Rome was great, an Etruscan artist, on the banks 
of the Tiber, designed a vase, and ornamented it 



14 WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 

with figures emblematic of his poor faith in the 
gods of heathenism, and expressive of his ques- 
tionings of the great mystery of death. That 
artist has been dead for twenty-five hundred 
years ; but his work, dug from his own grave 
perchance, yet remains, one of the choicest art- 
relics of that distant age. A copy of it stands 
on our table, bearing cur flowers, to-day. What 
would he have thought, could he have known that 
the work of his hands, twenty-five centuries after 
those hands had turned to dust, would stand in 
the temple of a faith not then given to men, but 
which answered all his blind longings, and in a 
country of whose existence he had never dreamed, 
three thousand miles across the unsailed ocean ? 
Who knows but that some work or word of his 
may endure ? 

In our severe trials and struggles, also, we may 
have witnesses and sympathy when we think 
we are all alone. One of the most touching 
things that were found in the excavation of the 
buried city of Pompeii was the impression of 
two female figures, overtaken in their flight by 
the fiery storm, having with them their jewelry 
and one hundred pieces of money, and the iron 
keys of the home to which they hoped to return. 
Their very attitude, expressive of terror and mor- 
tal agony, is preserved. They suffered and died 
alone : no human eye could then look on to pity ' 
them. But now, after seventeen hundred years, 



WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 15 

the hearts of men of another age turn to their 
sore distress in sympathy. 

My friends, have you thought that some little 
trial of yours well borne, some trifling act, some 
chance word, may last yet longer ? The plastic 
tables of immortal souls are all around you, 
and you are writing on them. Some Christian 
act of yours, nay, some Christian word even, 
may trace, as with the pen of steel and point of a 
diamond, its record, which shall be ineffaceable. 
Or it may be that your folly, your sin, may in- 
scribe that other record as indelible, which, with 
the waters of many tears, you cannot wash out. 
It is a solemn thing to live, when we know that 
one short day of ours will have eternal conse- 
quences for us and for others. 

Paul feels that he is standing in the arena, not 
merely with the men of his own time and those of 
after-ages gazing upon him : in yet more solemn 
presence does he stand. "A spectacle to men 
and to angels." Do those who have passed on, 
look back on these scenes which they have left ? 
For one, I believe it with undoubting confidence. 
When you travel abroad among other scenes and 
men, though the fields be more fertile and the 
dwellings more splendid, do you cease to care for 
the home you have left, though it be an humble 
one ? Nay, rather, do you not think the more of 
it, because it is so far away? And so, I believe, 
that the loves and memories of earth will cling to 



16 WE ABE A SPECTACLE TO THE W0ELD. 

us when we journey from it; that the earthly 
homes are remembered, even in the heavenly 
mansions ; and that our friends, who have gone, 
are now looking back to see how it fares with us 
in struggle and in temptation, with an interest 
yet warmer than they used to feel, because now 
they know, what they knew not fully then, the 
momentous consequences which hang upon these 
fleeting hours. How have the acts of our past 
week appeared to those pure eyes, looking down 
from the heavenly home upon us here ? Have we 
saddened them by our un worthiness and sin ? If 
we care not for the men around us, surely it can- 
not be a light thing to any of us, that we are 
compassed about with so great a cloud of wit- 
nesses. 

Let me add one thought more. The time is 
coming when we shall be, not alone a spectacle to 
men and to angels, but to ourselves. What if we 
can never forget ? It is a relief to us, when, after 
the sharp sting of conscience has been blunted by 
time, we can forget our misdeeds. What if they 
are not forgotten, but only laid away in the 
deeper chambers of the memory, waiting the day 
of reckoning ? We speak of the record kept in 
heaven of every act of every soul, which is unal- 
terable, ineffaceable. The duplicate record is 
kept on earth, we ourselves being the swift wit- 
nesses. A friend, not long ago, told me of a re- 
markable experience ; and, indeed, I have heard 



WE ARE A SPECTACLE TO THE WORLD. 17 

of similar ones from many others. He was sud- 
denly precipitated from a height of many feet ; 
and, in that brief interval of a second or two 
while he was falling, the events and actions of 
almost his whole life, thoughts of his family, sor- 
row for neglects of professional duty, all thronged 
through his mind. That experience, he said, ex- 
plained to him what the day of judgment might 
be ; a day when all these secret records of a life- 
time should be unveiled. 

It is a fearful thought, that we shall thus stand, 
with all the forgotten acts and thoughts and pur- 
poses of a lifetime brought before us again ! 
How thankful we shall be, if we shall find hi those 
records sins blotted out by repentance, misdeeds 
balanced by Christian efforts ! How bright will 
seem to us the account of sacrifices in behalf of 
the right, of kind offices to the needy, of all 
words of Christian charity and love ! As, from 
hour to hour, we write that record, let us remem- 
ber, that, one day, we ourselves must read it. 



2 



III. 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



Eom. xi. 13: "I magnify mine office. 



HAT is an office ? It comprehends two 



Y Y ideas. In the first place, the idea of 
duty : an office is a place of service for others. 
This is its original signification : " all service or 
attention which a man renders to others, whether 
from duty or kindness." It is, then, in its very 
origin, a term of disinterestedness and benevo- 
lence. An office is not a place where a man is 
to seek good for himself or to work for himself, 
but where he is to do good to others and work for 
others. In the political use of the word, how- 
ever far the theory may vqry from the practice, 
it has this same original meaning : a place, not 
for this or that man's convenience and profit, but 
where the public good may be promoted, and the 
public wants answered. Even He who held, 
under God's providence, the greatest office since 
the world began, thus speaks of himself: "I 
came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." 
The first idea of the word, then, is one of per- 
vice ; and this not for one's self, but for others. 




MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



19 



But, in addition to this, the idea of appoint- 
ment is included in it. How did it happen that 
we are in any such place of service ? We did 
not place ourselves under this obligation. We 
did not of our own accord take something upon 
us, which otherwise would have had no claim 
on our efforts. Duty is not grounded upon any 
consent or acknowledgment of ours. Our du- 
ties are not accidental : they are imposed upon 
us. "We are appointed to them: God is the 
Appointer. Paul recognizes this in our text. He 
was the Apostle to the Gentiles. The great work 
of preaching Christ's gospel to the nations was 
intrusted to him. There were other apostles ; 
but he could not say, that he would leave this to 
Peter or to Matthew: it was his office. Neither 
could he excuse himself by thinking that the 
work was God's, and that, even if he individually 
should be faithless. God would still see that it 
was done. The work, with all its solemn weight, 
was laid upon him ; and how was he straitened 
till it was accomplished ! It was no self-imposed 
obligation, no self-sought office ; for he was an 
apostle, not by the will of men, nor by man. but 
by the will of God. In this spirit he performed 
the duties of his office, as being God's appoint- 
ment to him. What earnestness it required : 
what strong endeavor ; what self-sacrifice ! Had 
not God appointed him to it, and how could he be 
negligent ? If it had been of his own choosing, 



20 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



he would not have felt so keenly the responsibil- 
ity ; but it was a sacred trust. 

My brethren, we are all in office, in this Chris- 
tian sense. We have not the same duty which 
Paul had, nor was the notice of our appointment 
conveyed to us in the same miraculous way ; but 
still we are in office, "not by the will of men, nor 
by man, but by the will of God." For each of 
'us there is a special service to perform : to that 
he is appointed, and for that he is responsible. 
How appointed ? you may ask. Your tastes, 
your peculiar gifts, the circumstances of life 
which have been your educators, the events which 
have led you in a particular direction, every thing 
which constitutes your fitness for a work, is your 
commission for it, the evidence to you of your 
divine appointment. And the very fact that you 
have been led, in God's providence, to a special 
sphere of action, is a strong presumption that 
you are fitted for it, that this is the sphere in 
which you are commissioned to minister. 

There are two opposite faults in this matter. 
One is office-seeking. There are many people 
who give more attention to widening their sphere 
than to filling it. It is imagined that one's gifts 
indicate a higher place than is at present occu- 
pied, and that that is wasted on small duties and 
insignificant results which is equal to greater 
things. There is a constant discontent with ac- 
tual duties, and a reaching out for fictitious ones. 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



21 



But this is not the right spirit. Suppose that the 
fancied ability is actually possessed by a man ; 
this feeling will prevent the accomplishment of 
its own end. Higher places do not come for the 
seeking. They are rather to be accepted than to 
be striven for. Do the present work well to the 
best of your ability, and the way will open before 
you, and you will be led into it. Wait for the 
Master of the feast to say, " Go up higher." 

The opposite fault is the shrinking from du- 
ties. The divine call to work is very slowly 
recognized : many things which ought to come 
within the sphere of service are excluded from 
it. And the reason very probably is an excess- 
ive modesty, a distrust of our own ability. We 
do not undertake it, because we feel not fully 
competent to carry it through successfully. Now, 
we have no means of judging of our ability to do 
any thing, except by trying. And the criterion 
by which we should judge whether it is an office 
to which the Lord has appointed us, is, not this 
uncertain opinion of our talent, but the need of 
the work's being done. See that there is need, 
and let that be your call ; accept that as a divine 
appointment. Let it be what it may, act thus ; 
and, if you are mistaken, you will know it soon 
enough. Do not despise the office, even if it be 
a class in the Sabbath school which stands vacant 
from Sunday to Sunday. Neglect it not: it is 
the Lord's appointment, waiting for some one. It 



22 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



is yours ; accept it : and you know not what 
blessed fruits you may gather from this part of 
the Lord's vineyard, what results for time and 
eternity may follow your faithful discharge of this 
office. 

But when we are in our place, when we have 
accepted and begun to perform its duties, with 
what spirit should we regard it ? Paul's example 
here is worthy of all imitation. " I magnify 
mine office." You notice that it was not him- 
self that he magnified. Many people look on 
the performance of this or that duty, only as a 
means of self-exaltation. Self is at the bottom 
even of their service of God. It was not so with 
Paul. It was the office that he magnified, the 
duty God had given to him to do. He felt its 
importance, its dignity. The fruits it bore to 
him were oftentimes reproaches, and sometimes 
scourgings. Men despised the humble tent- 
maker, as with feeble voice he told his message. 
The message itself was foolishness to them. An 
apostleship then was not what it is now ; but, 
to Paul, it was the grandest, the sublimest work 
which had been in that age intrusted to man to 
do. To be a king he would esteem a small 
thing ; to be a philosopher, likewise. But to be 
an apostle of Christ, though that Christ was 
scorned and derided, was the loftiest station a 
man could hold ; an office which called for the 
most devout thankfulness in him who had been 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



23 



so honored as to receive it, which deserved the 
most conscientious faithfulness in him who per- 
formed it. In short, he magnified his office ; he 
recognized what it was. Beneath its outward 
seeming of reproach and contempt, he saw the 
grandeur of the divine commission of being a 
king and priest unto God. 

Now, we have not apostleships ; but we all are 
commissioned to some office, and our appoint- 
ment is not accidental or of human choice. 
Wherever the place may be, and whatever the 
office which each is called to fill of service to the 
community and his God, we should have the spirit 
of Paul and magnify that office, however humble 
men think it to be. If they undervalue it, do 
not you call it poor and mean ! Let it be a noble 
office to you, by the spirit with which you enter 
upon it. Its appointment is from the same Gov- 
ernor, and its account is to the same Judge, as 
any other which the world may call higher. Let 
it be your highest aim to fill it perfectly, and be 
satisfied with nothing less. If God has set you 
to be a merchant, let your course be the model of 
an upright, broad-minded, liberal, Christian mer- 
chant. If God has appointed you to serve him 
and your fellows by tilling the ground, be a model 
farmer. If he has led you to some mechanical 
trade, give to it your best powers of mind and 
body. If he has called you even to the place of 
a servant, discharge each of its duties to the 



24 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



best of your ability. " Who sweeps a room as to 
God's praise, makes that and the action fine." 
Above all, honor and magnify your calling, what 
ever it be. Never allow a thought that it does 
not demand a man's highest powers, and that it 
is not worthy of them. " Magnify your office." 
Without this, a man can do nothing anywhere. 
He must think it just as honorable and just as 
noble as any other in the wide world, and then 
seek to add new honor to it by his own faithful 
performance of its duties. 

Many of you have lately witnessed a noble 
example of this. He has magnified his office, 
who has learned for himself, and has expounded 
to us, a new application of the Christian law of 
kindness, extending it even to the animal. He 
has done a Christian work, not more important 
in procuring mercy for the horse, than in ele- 
vating human character. A lady spoke to me, 
recently, of a nurse, somewhat in these terms: 
" She magnifies her calling. When she comes 
into a sick-room, she seems to walk as proudly 
as a queen in her little kingdom. She is never 
so happy as she is there, doing with scrupulous 
fidelity all its little duties ; and these are as im- 
portant to her as the great cares which weigh on 
the ruler of a nation." Why should she not be 
proud of her calling ? Remember, that, at this 
moment, a Crimean nurse wears the most hon- 
ored woman's name in Christendom. 



MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE. 



25 



Xow, this is the spirit which I mean : the spirit 
of honest pride, of scrupulous fidelity, which 
we ought to cultivate in our various callings. 
We can each magnify our office ; and, to what- 
ever place of duty and service to others God has 
been pleased to appoint us, we can fill it well. 
There are, indeed, diversities of gifts and diver- 
sities of works ; but all are appointed by the 
same Lord, and all contribute to the same end. 
" There are diversities of gifts, but the same 
Spirit ; and there are differences of administra- 
tions, but the same Lord ; and there are diver- 
sities of operations, but it is the same God which 
worketh all in all. Ail these worketh that one 
and the self-same Spirit, dividing to every man 
severally as he will." 



IV. 



TEMPTATION. 
Matt. vi. 13: "Lead us not into temptation." 

"1~\0ES it not seem strange that this petition 
-^-^ should be worded just as it is ? We pray 
to God not to lead us where we shall be likely to 
disobey him: would the kind Father lead us 
thither? We look to him as the strengthener 
against temptation, rather than as its author. 

What is temptation ? It is commonly used in 
a bad sense, to signify an allurement to sin. In 
this popular sense, the Apostle James uses it, 
who was one of the disciples to whom Christ first 
gave this prayer, when he says, " Let no man say, 
when he is tempted, I am tempted of God; for 
God tempteth no man." This is most certainly 
true, in the signification, which the word some- 
times bears, of an allurement to evil. God 
surely never does thus entice his children to sin. 
But still it is also true, that God does lead us 
into temptation. 

The common definition of the word gives only 
half its meaning. The primary meaning of it, 
both in our own language and in the original, 
is different. To tempt means to try, to prove. 



TEMPTATION. 



27 



Temptation is that outward occasion which tests 
the character, and brings out what is within us. 
There is nothing in this which is in itself bad ; 
but the fact that a bad meaning has become at- 
tached to it, is a lamentable proof of human weak- 
ness and infirmity. It shows us that the drawing 
forth what is within us usually results in reveal- 
ing evil, that the testing of character commonly 
betrays its corruption. It is wonderful how man's 
weakness and sinfulness thus stamp themselves 
upon his very language. It is in this primary 
sense of the word, that God may be said to tempt 
us. He does bring us into circumstances which 
try and prove us. Why should we be unwilling 
to admit this? Is it not the very purpose of 
our present existence, to be a state of probation 
and discipline ? We cannot call temptation, in 
this sense, necessarily an evil, unless we rebel at 
the whole order of the world, as it came from the 
hand of God. It is true, temptation is often 
the occasion of sin ; but, we must remember, 
not necessarily so. The occasion was not placed 
before us to make us sin, but to make us strong 
by resisting sin. Virtue is its child, as w r ell as 
wickedness. The former is God's intention: the 
latter is man's perversion. 

What we call temptation, then, is merely a cir- 
cumstance, neither good nor bad in itself, but 
giving an opportunity for a person to show himself 
to be either. It is not a blessing or a curse ; but 



28 



TEMPTATION. 



it gives to an individual the fearful power of 
choosing one or the other. The evil of it, and its 
only evil, — its tendency to allure to sin, — rests, 
not in it, but in ourselves. Temptation, in its bad 
sense, is not outside of us, but always within us. 
God does not tempt us : we tempt ourselves. It 
is not merely true philosophy, but also the plain 
teaching of common sense, when the Apostle 
James says, " Every man is tempted, when he is 
drawn away of his own lust, and enticed." This 
double character of temptation comes from the 
very nature of virtue, which is not an escape from 
evil, but an act of choice for the good in spite 
of the evil. Temptation implies the possibility of 
sin ; for the power of choice includes in it the 
possibility of choosing wrongly. 

If temptation is God's discipline, is it right to 
pray that we may escape from it? It seems to 
me that the petition is rather the asking that 
we may not be tempted beyond our strength ; or 
that God, in the words of Paul, " will, with the 
temptation, also make a way to escape, that we 
may be able to bear it." "We come to trial, dis- 
trusting our strength. We have yielded too often 
before, to have much confidence in ourselves. 
We almost shrink from the testing, lest it should 
prove our weakness ; and hence we lift up the 
trembling cry, " Suffer us to come into no trial 
which we may not resist." In this spirit we 
should go to meet all the temptations of life. 



TEMPTATION. 



29 



We should be humble, even where we feel con- 
fident. Presumption here is certain ruin. The 
strongest cannot confide in his strength, sure 
that it will not betray him in the evil hour. 

The spirit which prays that it may not be led 
into temptation, surely ought not to go into it of 
itself. It is rash for the best man to trust his 
virtue needlessly in scenes and circumstances of 
temptation. Who of us is so strong but that he 
may fall ? If in any soul comes the whisper that 
it need have no fears for itself, it is, by that sign, 
in extreme peril. It is said, that, in the pros- 
pect of battle, the raw recruits are apt to jest of 
bloodshed and death, while the veteran soldier 
never does. So those who have had little ex- 
igence of life are apt to be foolhardy in their 
approaches to sin, nay, dare it to ensnare them ; 
but the veteran Christian, though he may have 
come unscathed out of many conflicts, knows 
their full risk, their extreme danger, and will not 
expose himself needlessly. We may lay it down 
as a rule, that he who ventures rashly into temp- 
tation, trusting in his own strength for security, 
will be very likely to fall. Such a course does 
not show brave confidence in one's self, but fool- 
hardy presumption. 

And yet how many we see who play around the 
flame, thinking that they shall not be burned ; 
who trifle on the edge of the precipice, sure that 
they shall not fall ! Have you not seen those 



30 



TEMPTATION. 



whom you and everybody knew to be just on the 
verge of ruin from a master passion, remaining 
in careless security, saying, that the weak, who 
cannot resist, should be on their guard ; but that 
they are strong enough to control their appetites. 
Let the strongest beware how he trifles with 
temptation. If you would know its power, look 
over the brink of the precipice on which you are 
walking so carelessly, and see what is in the gulf 
beneath ! The sight will chill your blood with 
horror. Wrecks of genius which once delighted 
the world are there ; ruins of souls rich in wis- 
dom, in power, in renown, are there, because they 
tampered with temptation. They thought, as you 
now think, that they were strong ; and they fell, 
as you may fall. The ground where you stand is 
slippery ; the tracks upon it all lead in one di- 
rection, and none lead back. Your only safety 
is, by your strong will, if it be not already gone, 
and Heaven's help, to retreat. Watch and pray, 
my brother, that you enter not into temptation. 

By how many of these occasions are we sur- 
rounded ! God's richest gifts, his best blessings, 
may be tempters. Every lot is encompassed with 
its own snares, differing in appearance. One, by 
the very abundance of wealth which God has 
given, is tempted to worldliness, and to forget- 
fulness of the Giver. Another, weighed down 
by poverty, is led into sinful murmuring. Joy 
leads some to unthankfuliiess ; sorrow, others to 



TEMPTATION. 



31 



despair. Sickness fills the soul with complain- 
ing; health withers it with presumptuous trust in 
its own strength. Even one's very virtues are a 
temptation to spiritual pride. And it is a remark- 
able fact, that every one thinks his own experi- 
ence to be the hardest which ever fell to the lot 
of man. If he were only tried as his neighbor is, 
he could easily be victorious ; but he is attacked 
in what is his weakest point. The drunkard, who 
has a good temper, envies the temptation of him 
who sins by indulging his anger. He could bear 
that provocation, and it would not lead him into 
sin : why, then, was it not allotted to him ? The 
passionate man, perhaps, finds no strong allure- 
ment to evil in that appetite which leads his 
brother to ruin. Each might be, nay is. vic- 
torious where the other is overcome. An enemy 
does not bring his assault on the strongest side of 
a fortification, but where the battlements are low- 
est, and the trenches shallowest. If there be a 
flaw in any part of the machinery of an engine, 
the whole pressure comes upon that, and it breaks 
there. So temptation attacks us in our vul- 
nerable part. If there be a single spot, which, 
Achilles-like, the heavenly defence does not cover, 
that spot the fatal arrow finds. Few there are. 
who are defended at every point ; and, when a 
sudden emergency betrays this in those who had 
hitherto stood strong, the world is apt to judge 
them too harshly. 



32 



TESTATION. 



Each of us has his weak point; and there, 
sooner or later, must the battle be fought. That; 
is no temptation which it is perfectly easy for us 
to resist. Neither ought we to be flattered into 
presumptuous pride, nor to plume ourselves on 
our strength, because we have resisted where 
others have fallen. What is easy for us may be 
the very plucking-out of a right eye to another. 
The meek man need not boast of his meekness, 
when he sees his brother yield to passion. The 
lavish man need not be proud of his liberality, 
when he sees the meanness of his neighbor. Each 
has his own weakness, different, it may be, from 
the other ; each, his darling sin ; let him look to 
that. I have my great temptation in my study 
and my pulpit, and there I must meet it. You 
have yours in your counting-rooms and ware- 
houses, in your shops and on your farms, and in 
the cares and duties and vexations of domestic 
life. It is no merit, and it implies no strength in 
you, that you do not yield to the pressing temp- 
tations of my life ; and it is no merit in me, that 
I do not yield to the temptations of the counting- 
room, the workshop, the farm. 

But, however varied in form, these all are alike 
in substance. We all, rich and poor, cultivated 
and ignorant, good and bad, are brothers in this, 
that we are tempted. May we be brothers also in 
the manly and Christian resistance to our beset- 
ting sins ! This is what we ask, and not for 



TEMPTATION. 



ourselves alone, " Lead us not into temptation." 
The poor woman who is tempted by pain and pov- 
erty, in praying for herself, prays also for you, 
who, though knowing not sickness or pinching 
want, yet are tempted in your mansion, as she is 
in her hovel. We are brothers in temptation ; wc 
are brothers in intercession for help. But, though 
it be " common to man," we need not yield ; God 
gives us that wherewith we may quench every 
fiery dart of the wicked. 

Temptation must come to all, and it must come 
to you. It is strong ; therefore be not presump- 
tuous. It is not invincible ; therefore be of good 
courage. You are not alone : every child of 
earth is fighting the same battle. The great Cap- 
tain of our salvation was tempted in all points, 
as you are, and yet was without sin. Many 
have overcome ; be therefore active. Many have 
fallen ; " wherefore let him that thinketh he 
standeth, take heed lest he fall. There hath no 
temptation taken you, but such as is common. to 
man ; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you 
to be tempted above that ye are able, but will, 
with the temptation, also make a way to escape, 
that ye may be able to bear it." 



8 



CONFLICT, GOD'S METHOD OF PROGRESS. 



Job i. 6, 12 : " Kow there was a day when the sons of God 
came to present themselves before the lord, and 
Satan came also among them." — "And the Lord said 
unto Satan, Behold, all that he [the man] hath is 
in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine 
hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of 
the Lord.' 7 



OD does not hold a divided sovereignty. 



He is absolutely supreme. Whatever is he 
allows, and allows for some good purpose of his 
own. There are things which we call evil ; but 
they are God's instruments, working out in their 
way his ends. The very personification of evil 
is said to have come in among the angels of God, 
and, willingly or unwillingly, to have answered 
his purposes. 

Perhaps, if we look around from any single 
point of view, all seems dim and confused. You 
might think that Satan was doing his own work, 
not the Lord's ; but survey the whole, and you 
can plainly see that God is ruling all. To one 
looking over a battle-field, where armed hosts 
are contending, every thing appears like confu- 
sion ; he can discern little method amid the clash 
of arms and through the sulphurous smoke. 




CONFLICT, GOD'S METHOD. 



35 



Even those who are themselves engaged do not 
know the purpose of this or that manoeuvre ; 
they may think, where they stand, that all is lost. 
But one mind is over all, and retreat here is a 
part of the same plan as advance there. Victory 
comes in the end ; and only from the end can 
you understand the object of each movement, 
and unravel the intricacies of the plan. And so 
we are often deceived, when we attempt to trace 
out results in the world about us. There is con- 
flict everywhere ; but we may be sure of this, 
that the great conflicts of the universe and of life 
have no doubtful issue. God is above them all ; 
and he always gains the victory, and has his 
purpose answered. 

I. The material universe has been a scene of 
convulsion and conflict. As we walk in our 
beautiful fields, we are treading upon the ruins 
of buried creations. Devastation and destruc- 
tion have been busy here. This little planet of 
ours has been ravaged by fire and flood through 
untold cycles of ages. But was it accident? 
Was it a victory of the powers of evil ? Ages 
ago, the surface of the earth was covered with 
large pines and gigantic ferns and mosses, high 
as our forest-trees. They lasted their time, and 
then all that luxuriant growth was swept away 
in seeming ruin. Was it all in vain, and did the 
destruction of all this rich creation come too 
soon ? Nay, it had answered its purpose ; and 



36 



CONFLICT, 



God was, in that seeming ruin, storing up in the 
boundless coal-beds all those primeval forests 
for the use of man, when he should inhabit the 
earth. And then another form of existence took 
its place. Fishes, reptiles, animals, each higher 
than the other, had their day, as the earth was 
prepared for them ; till, last of all, the Creator 
placed man in the world, which he had been 
fitting up so magnificently for his abode. We 
do not live, then, on a wrecked and ruined earth, 
but in a garden of paradise, which the Lord has 
been making ready for his children through 
countless ages. A few more such devastations, 
and the world would be purified and fit for 
angels' habitation. These convulsions, which 
seem so dreadful as we read their record in the 
stone, were the ravages, not of destruction, but 
of birth. God directed them, and through them 
was his design accomplished. 

II. There are conflicts, too, in the world of 
men, upheavings and volcanic convulsions in 
human society. History is a constant record of 
strife and war. As we read its pages, we are 
almost tempted to think that this world is under 
the dominion of the adversary ; and that Satan, 
when he promised all the kingdoms of the world 
and the glory of them to our Saviour if he would 
fall down and worship him, was offering of his 
own. Poor Satan ! He knew not, that, all the 
time, he was only an instrument in the hands of 



god's method of progress. 



37 



the Almighty. To the actors in these conflicts 
they may have seemed only evil, in themselves 
and in their results. And yet they have all has- 
tened the coming of God's kingdom. Through 
all these convulsions of society has humanity 
been advancing with steady step. How must 
the wars of the cross have appeared to an intel- 
ligent man of that time, as he saw all Europe, 
seized as it were with madness, hurling itself 
against the gates of the Holy Land ! What but 
evil and ruin could result from such strife? 
And yet the Crusades were to Europe the birth- 
throes of a higher life, intellectually, politically, 
and spiritually. They were the prelude to the 
increased power of the people, to the revival of 
learning, and to the reformation of the Church. 
Satan had been most actively and busily doing 
God's work. These conflicts were God's instru- 
ments, not for destruction, but for purification. 

So there may be those who see in our present 
commotion and conflict * evil and only evil con- 
tinually. It is sad, it is terrible. We cannot 
well exaggerate its evil and its woe, as we look 
from so near a position upon the blood it sheds 
and the ruin it entails. I believe, however, that 
God has brought us into it ; that he will permit 
it to last till his work is done upon the nation's 
heart ; and that then he will bring our country 
out of it, redeemed, regenerated, purified, yet so 

* Written in 1863. 



38 



CONFLICT, 



as by fire, making the very wrath of man to 
praise him. The Lord's ends will surely be 
answered ; and, sooner or later, the right and 
divinely ordained issue will be developed out of 
this seeming confusion and chaos. God broods 
over the face of the deep. But, if his pre-or- 
dained purpose is inevitably accomplished, what 
matters it what we do, or which side we take ? 
It will not hinder God's triumph, if we neglect 
our duty. If we are faithless, he can find other 
instruments. He can do without us ; but we 
cannot do without him. It may make no differ- 
ence to his plan how you act ; but it makes an 
infinite, an eternal difference to your own souls, 
whether you are on the side of God or of the 
adversary. 

III. As in the material universe and in society, 
so in the Church, there have been dissensions 
and strife. It seems sad that the disciples of a 
common Master should be so divided and dis- 
cordant ; that Christians of different names should 
love each other so little, and make of more ac- 
count their petty differences than the one worthy 
name by which they are called. And I suppose 
Satan considers it his masterpiece of strategy, 
that Christians are so busily engaged in fighting 
with each other rather than with him. It is sad, 
this sectarian animosity ; and yet God is here 
over-ruling the seeming evil for good. In these 
very conflicts of sects, the truth as it is in Jesus 



god's method of progress. 



39 



is brought out into clearer light. Each sect 
brings its contribution to the divided body of 
Christ. The stagnation of uniformity and in- 
difference is thus prevented, and the way is pre- 
pared for a true and intelligent unity of the 
Church ; a unity better and more comprehensive 
than any of which Pope or Inquisition has ever 
dreamed. Thus these very divisions and con- 
troversies, which are in one aspect so deplorable, 
are serving the cause of Christ. 

IV. There is conflict, too, within every human 
soul and in every human experience. One of 
the writers of the Epistles speaks of the lusts 
which war in the members. Who has not felt 
something of this ? And yet whence comes this 
" war in the members " ? We mistake, I think, 
when we speak of bad passions : we have not bad 
passions. Every seed which God has planted 
within us is good, if we do not allow it to grow 
too rank. A propensity is bad, not in its natural 
use, but in its abuse. When we are contending 
with our passions, we must not think that we are 
dealing with outlaws from the divine economy, 
but with what might be made God's own instru- 
ments. We have to control and use, not to 
extirpate them. A passion subjected, becomes, 
when transformed, an increased power. Thus is 
one great object of life answered. Here is the 
divinely appointed field, in which we are to de- 
velop our wills, and strengthen our energies, and 



40 



CONFLICT, 



consecrate onr powers to God. It is not Satan's 
field : it is the Lord's. 

And so it is with the experiences of human 
life. Would we strike from these our trials, sor- 
rows, conflicts, even our temptations ? We might 
wish to do so, while we were in the midst of the 
doubtful conflict ; but, when the victory has been 
gained, never. We know that from them has 
come much that is best and highest in us. We 
cannot spare them. We see in them, even more 
than in what we call our best blessings, God's 
merciful hand. 

There are conflicts, then, in the material uni- 
verse, in society, in the church, and in individual 
life ; but God is above all. They are his agencies, 
not Satan's : and his agencies are designed for 
good. But the better a tool is, the more harmful 
it becomes when turned from its proper purpose. 
The world was not intended to be a battle-field, 
but a school ; and its conflicts are lessons of God's 
teaching. Do we not all, however, have a longing 
for the blissful time when wars and conflicts shall 
cease ; when fightings without and contentions 
within shall disturb no more ? Is there nowhere 
any rest ? There may not be in this world ; for 
to gain strength by conquest, and to grow by bear- 
ing, by resisting, by striving, seems to be one of 
the elementary lessons of our life on earth. We 
may learn that lesson here ; and, when we rise 
into the upper school, it may not need to be re- 



god's method of progress. 



41 



peated. There the great Teacher may set for 
his children higher tasks in their never-ending 
education. " There the wicked cease from troub- 
ling, and there the weary are at rest." We may 
never cease to think, to work, and to serve ; but 
heaven, we may trust, will free us from the diffi- 
cult and doubtful conflicts of earth, and give us 
holy peace. 



VI. 



ENDURE HARDNESS AS A GOOD SOLDIER OF 
JESUS CHRIST. 

2 Tim. ii. 3: "Thou, therefore, endure hardness as a 

GOOD SOLDIER OF JESUS CHRIST." 

"jVTEVER before was there honesty and frank- 
ness equal to that of Christ and his apostles, 
when they called upon men to accept the gospel, 
and enter on the Christian life. There is in 
their discourses no concealment of dangers, no 
smoothing over of difficulties. They do not 
represent it as an easy thing to be a Christian: 
on the contrary, they seem studiously to dwell 
upon the perils, the sacrifices, the self-denials, 
which encompass that path in which they urge 
men to walk. They speak often, it is true, of the 
joys, the blessedness, the glory, of him who be- 
comes a disciple ; but it is joy in tribulation, 
blessedness in persecution, glory in trial. They 
open the gate, and point the way ; but it is a 
strait and narrow road, and the cross stands at 
the end of it. Some might grow weary under 
the heat and burden of the day ; but no one 
could say that he had been deceived. 



AS A SOLDIER OF CHRIST. 



43 



What the Master did not do at the beginning, 
we have no right to do now. We must represent 
the Christian life just as it is, when we invite men 
to enter upon it, the same as Jesus and his apos- 
tles exhibited it ; no less comprehensive in its 
demands, no less difficult, no more inviting. We 
are allowed to make no deductions for the timid, 
the slothful, the pleasure-seeking. It is no path 
into which the indolent and self-indulgent can 
enter, and be indolent and self-indulgent still. 
Jesus told those of his own time plainly what 
was required of his disciples. He himself went 
before them on that hard and painful road ; and 
we have no right to improve his terms. 

To be a Christian to-day is not an easy work, 
a result to which one can be borne lightly along 
on the breath of a whispered wish. It is not to 
be accomplished by a single effort, though it be 
sincere and strong. Be not deceived. He who 
enters upon a Christian course is engaging in a 
toilsome, a life-long, a self-denying work. It is 
just as it was in the early times. We may not 
have the same trials of our faith, the same perils 
to encounter, the same sacrifices to make. We 
must have the spirit which would enable us to 
make these, if need should come ; which does 
enable us to bear ourselves in our circumstances 
meekly, devoutly, unselfishly, as the early disci- 
ples did in theirs. Christ requires of us no less 
than he did of them : the unconditional enlist- 



44 



ENDURE HARDNESS AS A 



merit in his service, the unreserved surrender, the 
whole-hearted consecration of ourselves, which 
makes all things possible. We, too, must place 
duty before every thing, and follow unquestion- 
ingly wherever he leads. Be it a darling passion 
to be crucified, be it a hard work to be done, be 
it a sacrifice to be offered, be it a cross to be 
taken up, we must follow him to the end. 

Do we wonder why God has made the way of 
life, in which he would have us all to go, so diffi- 
cult ? We wish sometimes that this was the 
broad and easy road, so that we could not help 
entering it ; and that it was the strait and narrow 
path which led to destruction, so that we might 
easily shun it. But the Father will not hire 
his children to love and obey him. He will not 
buy them off even from the downward road. Duty 
is not duty which is bought. Such love and such 
obedience are worthless in his sight. He would 
not appeal to what is lowest in us, our love of 
ease and pleasure : but, in the name of what is 
noblest and highest, he calls us to his service; 
and the service which is not a response to that 
call is of no worth to him. 

Neither do we ourselves value highly that which 
costs us little. We never appreciate a bless- 
ing which comes to us with no effort on our part. 
We must earn a thing in order to fully under- 
stand its value. What do we think of the worth 
of free worship and the open Bible ? Let one 



GOOD SOLDIER OF JESUS CHRIST. 4o 

from priest-ridden and king-ridden Spain risk his 
life, and come hither into exile, and he would thank 
God for them in every prayer. How little we 
value our views of Christian faith ! Some time 
ago, I was talking with a clergyman, who ten years 
before, after careful and prayerful investigation, 
had been compelled to give up his Calvinistic 
views, and had become a Unitarian. His change 
cost him, of course, much sacrifice. He was 
obliged to leave the denomination of which he had 
been a prominent minister. He gave up his par- 
ish ; old friends looked coldly on him ; and the as- 
sociations of many years were broken up. He was 
now in the decline of life : and, poor though he 
was for the truth's sake, he found himself adrift 
on the world. TThen I saw him, it was ten years 
since his change of views : and few had extended 
to him the hand of greeting ; and he had only 
found opportunity to preach at rare intervals. 
He felt, he said, that, if God should spare him, 
he had ten years more, in which, in some little 
corner, he might still do some service for his 
Master. He spoke of his discouragements, of 
sickness in his family, of poverty, of the estrange- 
ment of friends, of his little apparent success in 
the new field. "But," -said he, and his eyes 
glistened as he said it, " I would not exchange 
the joy of my liberal views of God for the best 
pulpit in Christendom." And so it is with our 
Christian faith itself. We value it very much in 



46 



ENDURE HARDNESS AS A 



proportion to what it costs us. If it costs noth- 
ing, we prize it little ; but, with every added cost, 
its value rises, till, when it asks for the supreme 
sacrifice, it stands inestimable. In prosperity, we 
receive it with cold indifference and thoughtless- 
ness ; but add reproach and suffering and death 
to its price, and its worth increases, till the solid 
earth is but a poor bauble by its side. 

God has so arranged the work of life that it 
may minister to our development and growth, 
and build us up in all that is noble and good. 
This is the design of our existence on earth. 
It is not for enjoyment, but for discipline ; and 
shall not the Christian life conform also to the 
divine purpose ? God has made that to be hard 
and difficult, because it is good for us to do 
hard things, to work and struggle. Thus only 
can that which is best in us be developed ; thus 
do we grow strong ; and this is the reason why it 
is not easy for us to be Christians. It would not 
be so well for us, if God had thus opened wide 
the gate and smoothed the path. No doubt he 
could have planted in each of us all the gifts and 
graces of the Christian character full-grown ; but 
he saw that it was best for us that we should 
by struggle win them. In these days, we have 
not too many sacrifices to make for our faith, 
rather too few for us to feel how precious it is, 
and to make us robust and strong. We should 
love Jesus more, I think, if we had more to do 
and to suffer for him. 



GOOD SOLDIER OF JESUS CHRIST. 



47 



There is a disposition at the present day, in 
every thing, to smooth over difficulty, to find 
out short and easy ways, to cheapen the price of 
every good ; but I believe, if we make our Chris- 
tian faith to cost little, we shall find that we have 
a faith worth even less than we pay. I would 
apply this even to the forms and accessories of 
religion. We gain nothing by abating the strict- 
ness of the conditions which fence in the Church 
of Christ. We lose in strength of character, in 
energy of Christian purpose, if they are abated 
for us. It used to be a hard thing, in the days 
of our fathers, to conform to the conditions of 
admission to the Church. One who was diffident 
and distrustful would naturally shrink from the 
" propounding " before the congregation, and 
from the other forms observed in the public 
confession of Christ. I remember, in my own 
experience, that it was something of a cross to 
take up, But then this thought must occur to 
one seriously pondering upon his duty, as he 
wishes for some easier way : " Here I am enlist- 
ing in the service of a Master who requires the 
giving up of one's self entirely to him, the surren- 
der of all one has and is, of life itself, if need be, 
even the taking up the literal cross and following 
him ; and here I am shrinking from the trivial 
sacrifice at the beginning! What is my faith 
worth, if it cannot bear this little test ? " If 
forms are inappropriate or unmeaning, let them be 



48 



ENDURE HARDNESS AS A 



given up ; but not because they are difficult, not 
because there will be one less sacrifice for him 
who would be a Christian : that is contrary to the 
whole genius of Christianity. Let it be hard; 
you ought to do hard things ; it will do you good 
to do them. The object is not to bring persons 
into the Church at any event and in any way. 
Christ requires this public confession of our faith 
in him quite as much for our sake as for his. 
He would mark by a definite and decisive act the 
choice of his service ; he would add to our own 
souls the strength which comes from doing a 
difficult act in obedience to him, who has a right 
to demand it. If the public avowal of our faith 
is a sacrifice, on that very account he requires it 
as a fitting entrance upon that course, which, 
with all its joys, demands that we be earnest and 
self-denying. 

Do you look upon it, then, as' strange that you 
find in your Christian path, perhaps at its very 
beginning, difficulties to be overcome, sacrifices 
to be made, hard things to be done ? You must 
expect them. If you are not willing to take up 
your cross, whatever it may be, you are not ready 
to be Christ's disciple. He has foretold it all to 
us. His own path was not strewn with flowers. 
The disciple is not greater than his master ; it is 
enough for him that he be as his master. Christ 
can ask no less of us. He does not want vacil- 
lating and lukewarm disciples, half with him and 



GOOD SOLDIER OF JESUS CHRIST. 



49 



half against him. He asks for those who will 
come to him, giving up all besides ; no holiday 
warriors, but those who will "endure hardness,' 3 
if need be, " as good soldiers of Jesus Christ ; " 
who are not afraid to own his name ; who will 
try to be true to their confession, in spite of irre- 
ligion without and foes within. The conditions 
are clear : let them not be smoothed over nor 
disguised. 

Are you ready to enlist in such a Master's 
service ? His work needs helpers ; the fields are 
white already for the harvest, — yes, withering 
for the lack of reapers ! Shall we put our hand 
to the work ? It may be that he can do without 
us ; that his work may find other helpers, and 
his harvest be gathered by other hands ; but 
can we do without him ? Our souls need his 
service more than his service can possibly need 
us. There we find, in our sacrifice, joy ; in our 
hardest toil, best growth ; in what we give up, 
our exceeding great reward. It costs much, but 
it gives infinitely more. u Yerily I say unto you, 
there is no man that hath left house or parents 
or brethren or wife or children for the kingdom 
of God's sake, who shall not receive manifold 
more in this present time, and, in the world to 
come, life everlasting." 



4 



VII. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 

John xviii. 38: "Pilate saith unto him, What is truth?" 

IT was a strange scene on that day in the 
judgment-hall at Jerusalem. The Roman 
governor, cowardly, vacillating, worldly, dissolute, 
sceptical about that which is the highest need of 
the human soul, and yet superstitious, examining 
for his life the Son of God, the Saviour of the 
world ! Pilate and Jesus : what had these two 
in common? And yet they were together on 
that day, asking, answering, the judge and the 
accused ! What could Pilate, lost in worldliness, 
hardly conscious of any higher wants than those 
of this life, understand of the motives, the mis- 
sion, the kingdom, of Jesus ? " To this end was 
I born, and for this cause came I into the world, 
that I should bear witness to the truth," said the 
Saviour. The truth ! Pilate understood nothing 
about that. What is it worth ? how much will it 
bring ? what is its price ? Its price to Jesus had 
been poverty, suffering, persecution ; and the mul- 
titude were then crying for the blood of him 
who had borne witness to it. To Pilate's mind, 



IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 51 

it was not worth its price. It was sacrificing 
the solid realities of this world to a dream or a 
phantom. It was folly ; and he was only a blind 
enthusiast who stood at his bar. " What is 
truth ? " was his mocking question. Truth is an 
empty name, he meant to say. 

Do we not hear this language of Pilate repeat- 
ed in our own day ? Is it not the same state- 
ment, in substance, with one which we often hear, 
" It makes no difference what a man believes " ? 
What is this but saying, in milder words, that 
truth is an empty name ? If it really does make 
no difference to any one what he believes, it 
speaks very little for that man's intellectual hon- 
esty, or for his mental or even moral health. 
Such a one would be an Episcopalian in Eng- 
land, a Papist in Rome, an Infidel in Paris, a 
Brahmin in Calcutta, and a Mahometan in Con- 
stantinople, and yet be the same person wherever 
he was, only dressed differently. Such a one 
might say truly, " It makes no difference what I 
believe." He might just as well call himself by 
one name as another, because really he believes 
nothing. 

But there are others who say the same, who 
have come to this conclusion by a different course 
of reasoning. They think that opinions and be- 
liefs are indefinite, vague, unpractical, and too 
unsubstantial to exert much influence upon hu- 
man life. They say, Let those whose business it 



52 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 

is to consider such matters, attend to them : we 
must be occupied with what is of higher prac- 
tical importance. It is with this feeling that they 
declare that it makes no difference what they be- 
lieve ; and, in thus speaking, they unconsciously 
do themselves great injustice. It is not true, 
that it makes no difference with them. In the 
outward relations of life, our beliefs not only 
make a difference with us, but in great measure 
they determine our course. You believe that 
certain methods of managing business will lead 
to prosperity, and you adopt those methods ; you 
believe that a certain venture will be successful, 
and you act on the belief. In a still higher 
sphere, you believe that certain things are wrong, 
and I trust that you act on this belief. What 
reason is there for stopping here, and saying that 
the highest beliefs have no effect on the conduct ? 
"What you believe about God, about Christ, and 
about man, touching as it necessarily does the 
deepest springs of life, and thence extending to 
every province of human action, must influence 
you. 

The brain, it is true, is located in a single part 
of the body ; but for that reason its influence is 
not confined to the head. There is not the 
smallest nor the most distant joint, but has its 
little filament of nerve, leading by sure path up 
to the great nervous centre ; and unseen, unfelt 
along these hidden channels, flash the commands 



IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 



of will, which lift the arm or direct the finger. 
And so the intellectual perception of truth, even 
of that which seems unpractical, pervades, and by 
its unconscious influence 'directs, all human ac- 
tion. For what was reason placed in man, but 
to direct him ? And is there no connection be- 
tween the conclusions of the reason and the life ? 
The brain may be active, and the nervous cord be 
sound ; but the limb may not obey the volition : 
it lies dead and paralyzed. Such is the life 
which does not obey the intellect ; it is palsied. 
Indeed, what can a man live by, if not by his 
beliefs ? By chance, or passion ? TTho would 
exalt these to be the helmsmen of life ? 

I have, then, little sympathy for that view 
which considers that all doctrines are alike, least 
of all in religion. I have more respect for my 
own intellect than to say. that this seems to me to 
be the truth, but the opinion of any one else is just 
as good, and just as likely to be true, as mine. 
Neither do the differences in the religious world 
concern mere theories. They relate to facts the 
most weighty and practical. What kind of a 
being is God ? 'What is our relation to him ? 
'vvnat have we to do, and what can we do, to be 
accepted by him ? Is he a stern, unpitying sove- 
reign, exacting the dues of justice to the utter- 
most farthing ? Or is he, not in name alone but 
in reality, a Father, dealing with us as a perfect 
father would with his children ; loving us still, 



54 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 

even when we forget to love him ; loving the 
sinner, and seeking by all the different ways of 
his providence to draw him to his truest good ? 
It seems to me that it must make great differ- 
ence what a man's belief is about this. My views 
of God are to me full of sunshine and of joy. 
It is not for us to look sad when he is spoken of. 
We are speaking of our best Friend. There is no 
fear connected with the thought. He may pun- 
ish indeed, and I hope he will, if punishment is 
needed. I know that the severest discipline will 
be still in love, and will work out my highest 
good ; and why should I tremble at it ? 

I think, too, that these bright views are of 
great importance to the peace and happiness of 
others, and to their interpreting aright the expe- 
riences of life. What kind of a Christian should 
I be, then, not to wish others to hold them ? 
Common feelings of benevolence merely would 
make me desire that they should believe thus, 
and should share in the blessing. Especially is 
this the case with those who are nearest to me. 
I should feel sorry, if one of you, my friends, 
should turn back to those gloomy, and, as I 
view them, untrue representations of the Infinite 
Father. Jesus, as I read his words, does not 
teach us of such a Being. I have not found 
God to be such to me. I feel sorry when others 
imagine that he is such to them. 

I have been led into this train of thought partly 



IMPORTANCE! OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 



55 



by some remarks which I heard last week from a 
person whom I highly respect. We were speak- 
ing of the improsperous condition of a Liberal 
society in our neighborhood, and he expressed 
himself somewhat in this wise : "I cannot say- 
that I would be willing to make much effort for 
its restoration. I am a Unitarian from firmest 
conviction. I believe that our views of Chris- 
tianity approach most nearly to the mind of 
Christ. But yet, if men are only good and 
moral, if they are good Christians, I do not care 
much what they believe.' 5 Xow, I think that 
this is a very false statement, and more nearly 
akin to the mocking words of the sceptical Pilate, 
" What is truth ? " than to the sentiment of Him 
who came into the world to bear witness to the 
truth. Error is, in its nature, a lie ; and lies re- 
ceived into the mind, so far as they have any effect 
on a man, must have a bad effect upon him. We 
cannot but admit that there are good Christians 
in every fold, and therefore good Christians who 
believe what is not true. "We are glad that 
there are such. We rejoice that Christianity has 
so strong a power for good, that error mixed 
with it cannot wholly destroy it. But the good, 
we must always bear in mind, is in spite of the 
error, not on account of it. Plant truth in these 
same good souls, and they would be better still. 
You may tell me that the error bears good fruit : 
it is not the error, it is the mingled truth, which 



56 IMPORTANCE OP RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 



bears the fruit you see ; it is the graft, and not 
the wild olive. I must believe that what is true 
is better food for human souls to live upon and 
grow upon than what is false. Take clear poison, 
and you would die ; if there is only a little mixed 
with what you take, you do not die, though you 
may be injured by it. 

Now, I believe that the views of Liberal Chris- 
tians in the main are true, and, being true, have 
a tendency to produce nobler characters in those 
who receive them than the opposite views ; that 
the man brought up under their legitimate influ- 
ence will grow up better and more Christ-like 
than the same man under different influences. 
The same is true of society. I think that a 
community will be better off, if it has a Liberal 
society and Liberal preaching within its limits. 
Therefore I am glad when my near friends hold 
to these views, and sorry when one I love gives 
them up ; for I fear that he will not grow so 
well. I feel it to be my duty, and my pleasure 
also, to do what I can to spread these same 
truths in the community, and to promote them 
in every Christian way. 

But this is sectarianism, one may say. What 
if it be ? It may not be so bad as some imagine. 
There is, indeed, a sectarianism which abuses all 
beside itself ; which slanders and vilifies ; which 
feels bound, in its advocacy of truth, to hate, not 
only the error, but the errorist. Shun this ; for 



IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. 57 

it is not Christian. But there is a sectarianism 
which simply respects itself and its own convic- 
tions ; which honors the truth it believes ; and, 
because it has found happiness and peace in its 
own beliefs, wishes others also to be happy. 
This is noble, this is Christian. Brotherly love 
is one thing ; but very different is that charity 
which goes to its neighbor, and says, " I believe 
so and so ; but your belief is just as good as 
mine, and just as likely to be true." There is 
no Christian love in that ; rather we should call 
it the indifference of Pilate. It is time, I be- 
lieve, to enforce as a duty, not, indeed, partisan 
zeal and unchristian rancor, but this much of 
sectarianism : a sacred regard for truth, and a 
manly respect for our own convictions. This 
gives opportunity for the exercise of the only 
Christian love which is worth the name, leading 
us to acknowledge the full breadth of that chasm 
which separates us from other sects, and to love 
them still. 

My friends, this Liberal Christianity which 
you have inherited is a noble trust. Will you be 
of the sect of Pilate, mockingly asking, " What 
is truth?" Or will you be followers of Him, 
who, with the divinest charity for the erring and 
pity for the sinning, yet rejoiced, saying, " For 
this end was I born, and for this cause came I 
into the world, that I should bear witness unto 
the truth"? 



VIII. 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 



James i. 22 : " Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers 

ONLY, DECEIVING YOUR OWN SELVES." 

James ii. 19: "Thou belie tt est that there is one God; 
thou doest well: the devils also believe, and trem- 
ble." 



E sometimes hear it said, almost boastingly, 



* ▼ that one of the marked characteristics of 
the present age is its respect for intellect. We 
have advanced beyond that barbarous state when 
heroes were men of muscle, who could wield the 
sword and poise the spear ; and now the heroes 
of mind receive our homage. At first sight, this 
seems to be true ; but, when we examine more 
carefully, we shall find, I think, reason for doubt- 
ing whether the intellect receives even a decent 
respect, to say nothing of worship, in our day, 
There are enough words of praise, as far as 
these go, and enough admiration for intellectual 
power ; but words alone are empty sounds. It is 
easy for one to talk about the nobility of intellect, 
when he is dazzled by some flash of genius ; but 
does he ennoble the intellect which is in him ? 
This is the test. Do men honor in themselves 




THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 59 

that which they almost deify in others ? Do we 
show our respect for it by our obedience ? AVe 
are all very willing to admire another's intel- 
lectual strength ; but where is our intellect ? 
Do we guide our own path by the candle which 
God has lighted within us ? 

The intellect was not placed in man to be an 
object of admiration, a means of making a dis- 
play for the world to wonder at, an ornamental 
appendage of human life. It is one of the most 
practical of the human faculties, the guide to 
every man over a certain part of his life's jour- 
ney. It deals with truths, and its results are 
beliefs. It is not all that there is in man, nor is 
it the highest part of him ; but, in its peculiar 
sphere, it is supreme, and it has a right to our 
respect and obedience. Two things seem neces- 
sarily to be involved in the respect for our own 
intellects. The first is, that we should give them 
the privilege of deciding, without bias or preju- 
dice, what is truth ; and the second is, when our 
belief has once been formed, that we should 
make our life consistent with it. The one we 
may call intellectual veracity: the other, intel- 
lectual honesty. 

As to the first, we find that many other things 
beside the perception of truth are often allowed 
to influence a man's belief. Intellect takes bribes 
from self-interest ; hopes and fears are apt to 
throw themselves into the scale ; passion warps 



60 THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 

the judgment: but one who is true to himself 
will deal fairly. His beliefs will be colored as 
little as possible by his prejudices, wishes, or 
interests ; they will be the calm and thoughtful 
result of his best judgment. The simple ques- 
tion will be, " What is true ? " not what will be 
the effect, or what are the results involved. Such 
a one will first find out the truth, and then will 
unhesitatingly accept all its consequences, fol- 
lowing implicitly wherever it leads. It is, indeed, 
difficult always to hold the even balance, and to 
sit in impartial judgment, when we ourselves are 
pleaders as well as judges ; but he who does this 
is a noble man. We cannot But honor him, 
though the beliefs he carries out may be opposed 
to our own, and may even seem to us to be dan- 
gerous in their tendency. 

We can respect the great Calvin for his 
unflinching adherence to the doctrines which he 
had honestly accepted as true, in spite of the 
consequences which they involved. Some of 
his contemporaries shrunk from the legitimate 
inferences of the doctrine of election ; and, while 
asserting the tenet that some men were elected 
to everlasting happiness, in order to save God's 
justice they omitted the twin dogma, that the 
rest were elected to eternal woe. Men, they said, 
were not elected to reprobation; but they were 
merely overlooked in the divine choice. Calvin, 
with his clear logic, could brook none of this 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 61 

humane inconsistency ; and lie expresses himself 
thus about it : " Many, as it were to excuse God, 
own election, but deny reprobation. But this is 
quite silly and childish; for election cannot 
stand without reprobation. Whom God passes 
by, those he reprobates ; it is one and the same 
thing." Calvin was right in this. He had con- 
vinced himself of the doctrine ; and what had 
come to him in the sacred name of truth, he 
would not shrink from. He was true to his own 
intellect. 

The second point of which we spoke is even 
more important than intellectual veracity, on 
account of its more intimate connection with 
actual life. The intellect is a practical power ; 
and the purpose of its action is not answered, 
when the truths which it has accepted are merely 
enthroned in the mind : they must be enthroned 
in the life as well. Man does not live that he 
may believe ; but he believes, that he may live. 
Eight living is the end of true believing. Be- 
liefs are barren, unless they are carried into 
conduct. We render to the intellect its rightful 
honor and respect, only when we act out its 
conclusions. This consistency of life with belief 
is what I mean by intellectual honesty. Is not 
this a virtue in which we are all too deficient ? 

It may be objected, that it would, indeed, be 
well for men to act out their beliefs, if all their 
beliefs were only true and salutary ; but, unfor- 



62 THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 

tunately, there are many false and mischievous 
opinions held in the world. Shall these be acted 
out ? We see men holding doctrines of bad 
practical tendency, who yet, apparently, are none 
the worse for them ; believing fearful dogmas, 
and yet just as happy and cheerful as other per- 
sons. Is it not well that the heart can show itself 
wiser than the intellect ? Is not this very intel- 
lectual falsity a merciful fact for humanity ? I 
admit the fact, but I deny altogether the inference. 
It is not well that men are ever untrue to their 
convictions ; and for this reason, because intel- 
lectual honesty would correct the errors of the 
intellect. If men would live up to their opinions, 
their bad beliefs could not last long. There is 
not a more healthy test which can be applied to 
any dogma than its practical working. Live it, 
and that will prove its solidity and worth. A 
little practical work has a wonderful effect in 
rationalizing the most crazy theories. Put them 
in practice uncompromisingly, and soon every 
one will abandon them. A man thinks that he 
has discovered, at last, the secret of perpetual 
motion. You cannot show him the fallacy on 
paper ; but put it into steel : this will test it. 
The same principle holds good in morals and the- 
ology. The wildest theories come into the brains 
of thinkers, who, in their lonely studies, recon- 
struct the nature of man and the decrees of God. 
Let them be honest with themselves, and put 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 63 

their theories in practice. Let them be thrown 
into the rough stream of human action, and be 
allowed to take their chance. Even here, then, 
I say that it is well that men should be true to 
their convictions. This is the medicine for the 
logic-sick intellect. 

But we must remember that our inconsistency 
is shown but seldom in regard to such beliefs as 
these. It is oftener our highest, our most neces- 
sary, our deepest convictions which remain un- 
vitalized and powerless. If we look over the 
community, we shall find, I think, that Chris- 
tianity has much more perfectly accomplished its 
work upon the human intellect than upon human 
life. The mind is much more thoroughly Chris- 
tianized than the heart. Men's beliefs about God 
are quite in conformity with the spirituality of the 
gospel. Their views upon questions of morality 
are, in general, quite near to the absolute stan- 
dard which Christ gives. Their decisions as to 
the rightfulness or wrongfulness of actions, even of 
those in which they are personally interested, are 
usually accurate ; and their judgments of their 
own conduct are tolerably just. So far as the 
opinions, views, and judgments of men are con- 
cerned, Christianity is, in the main, firmly en- 
throned ; but turn to actual human character, 
and how far do you find that to lay behind their 
beliefs ? We know so much better than we do, 
and we believe so much better than we live ! If 



64 THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 



we were only true to our own intellects, we should 
not be far from the kingdom of heaven. But it 
seems as if our opinions dwelt far up in the air, 
without having a foothold on the solid ground of 
reality. They are not coupled on to real life. 
They are like machinery that is unconnected with 
the power-wheel, which whirls round and round, 
while the machinery does not stir. Our beliefs 
were intended to be motive-powers in the life : 
if they are not, they are barren and worthless. 
What more dangerous state for a man can there 
be, than when principles are disjoined from prac- 
tice ? How can such a man be reached ? What 
can bridge over the gulf, and join again belief 
and action ? There may be more hope of an 
honest doubter than of him. 

Some men have a great dread of scepticism. 
It is, indeed, a sad sight to see one who has re- 
nounced those fundamental beliefs which must 
underlie the healthy life and constitute its high- 
est dignity. But, to my mind, there may be a 
sadder sight even than this. The sceptic may 
have become bewildered in subtle reasonings : 
but he is at least consistent in his bewilderment. 
Which is the worst: to disbelieve, and to act 
consistently with unbelief; or to receive the 
most solemn truths with firm conviction, and 
straightway to live an infidel life ? Scepticism 
is a slight evil in the community, when com- 
pared with this fearful divorce of belief from life. 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 65 

It is not so perilous a state for the individual to 
be in, who says, honestly and humbly, " I doubt ; " 
for the honest doubt at least reveals signs of life. 
But he who can say (and it is said sometimes 
as an excuse), " I suppose that it is wise for me 
to do this," or " I suppose that I ought to do 
this," and then does not act, what cure is there 
for this ? It indicates moral paralysis. 

Our greatest need is not more belief, but more 
realization of what we do believe. We all be- 
lieve enough to be saints, if the dry skeleton of 
our creeds were only vivified by a consistent life. 
Who of us approaches in his experience to the 
uprightness and nobleness of his own convic- 
tions ? The mind has done its work well ; but 
how much noble material has been stored up 
ready for use, which is yet unused ! How many 
dead ideas, how many unvitalized beliefs, remain 
in our inventory of mental property ! And these 
beliefs, which have not yet the warm lifeblood 
flowing through them, are not insignificant and 
unpractical ; but they are precisely those which, 
if once in action, would exert the strongest and 
best influence upon us. It is our best and high- 
est beliefs which are the most inactive. Are 
there any which enter less into conduct than 
our religious convictions ? Think what we be- 
lieve, what solemn, what momentous truths, and 
then see how our life accords with them. Would 
that we might realize how grand and imposing 



66 THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 

they are, as if they had come to us now for the 
first time ! 

We believe in God. What consequences are 
involved to us in that one word, God ! It is not 
possible that a man can truly believe in God, 
and yet not be a very different person from what 
he would have been, had he not believed in him. 
There is no single relation of life, no event, no 
experience, no duty, which does not depend for 
its motive and meaning on this primal fact. Does 
one believe in God, or does he not? On this his 
life hinges. How differently you would go to 
meet any duty or any event, whether joyous or 
grievous, if there be to you a God ! You believe 
that God sees you, that he sees your heart and 
your life. Can this be believed, and yet it make 
no difference to you ? Who is so thoughtless as 
not to take more heed to his path, if he feels that 
the All-seeing Eye is upon him, and follows all 
his steps ? You believe, too, since God has given 
to you every thing you have, that you must ac- 
count to him for the use which you make of his 
gifts. Do you live as stewards, using time, tal- 
ents, property, as lent by the heavenly Father, 
in order that you may do a work for him ? What 
one of our beliefs ought to be more practical 
, than this ? It will not do to be without God in 
our pleasure, in our business, in our homes, and 
then think that all is right, because our atheism 
is only in the life, and not in the head. If he be 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 67 

not a living God, but only an assemblage of ab- 
stractions which we bring together under a single 
name, of what use is such an idea to us ? If our 
belief amounts to any thing, it must be a present 
power within us, the presence of the ever-living 
God. 

Take another of the fundamental articles of 
our faith. We believe (else why are we here ?) 
in Jesus Christ, and in his gracious mission 
from God. Hpw can we stop in mere belief? 
We believe that he brings to us divine commands. 
Why do we call ourselves Christians, or have any 
thing to do with Christianity, unless we render 
obedience to its commands, and make earnest 
efforts to attain the Christian life ? And we be- 
lieve the fact of Immortality. Can it make no 
difference to you, whether you are to perish as a 
brute or to live for ever ? whether existence is to 
be regarded as an objectless journeying toward 
an eternal sleep, or the active preparation for a 
never-ending immortality ? There can t Ife but 
one answer. Now, consider what these articles 
of belief really are, God, Christ, Immortality ! 
Looking at them merely from the intellectual 
point of view, ought they not to be the moving 
powers of human life ? Can they be consistently 
any thing less than the very foundation on which 
all action and character must rest? Are they 
this ? Go among the men and women who hold 
these grand truths as the fundamental articles 



68 THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 

of their creeds. Do they live them out ? Do we 
see these persons in the trials and joys of their 
homes, living cheerfully, kindly, religiously, as in 
the very presence of the ever-living Father, and 
accountable to him for all their actions ? Do we 
find, that, in their daily work and business, they 
unhesitatingly abjure acts which are forbidden 
by the precept and spirit of Christ ? Do we ob- 
serve that their whole demeanor is sobered and 
elevated by the consciousness of their great des- 
tiny ? Judge for yourselves ; judge of yourselves. 
It does seem as if the face of society and our own 
lives would be very different from what they now 
are, if these ideas were living powers ; if they 
were only permitted to come forth from the tem- 
ples where we worship them, and to mingle in 
the current of our daily thought and feeling. 

What we need, then, most of all, is to change 
our dead beliefs into a living operative faith. 
Let the God in whom we believe go out with us 
into the world, and be a presence in our business 
to keep us from all meanness and dishonesty. 
Let our belief in Christ make us Christians. 
And let us not only say that we believe in a 
future life, but let us act as if we thought that 
this world was not all. We believe that there is 
but one purpose to which life can worthily be 
given : to that let us devote our lives from this 
day henceforth. Be true to your own intellects ! 
Live your beliefs like honest men ! Let there be 



THE INFLUENCE OF BELIEF ON LIFE. 69 

all needed caution and hesitation in forming 
your opinions ; but have no faltering afterwards. 
Cany out your belief uncompromisingly. Bind, 
by links of steel, every conviction to its execu- 
tion. Be not hearers of the word alone, nor be- 
lievers of the word alone, but be doers of the 
word. Let us bring our Christianity down from 
the upper chambers of the intellect, where we 
have stored it, that it may come into life afresh, 
as blood of our blood, and soul of our soul ! 



IX. 



FILL UP WHAT IS LACKING IN THE SUFFER- 
INGS OF CHRIST. 

Col. i. 24: "Who (I) now rejoice in my sufferings for 

TOU, AND FILL UP THAT WHICH IS BEHIND OF THE AFFLIC- 
TIONS of Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, 
which is the Church." 

XX OW wonderful is the relation between life 
■ * * and Scripture ! Each is the interpreter of 
the other; the written word, and the lesson 
of experience in the school of life, combining 
their instruction, and each explaining the other's 
mysteries. It sometimes happens, when we have 
been long perplexed and harassed with a pain- 
ful experience, wondering what it can mean and 
what can be its good, not knowing even how to 
reconcile it with the fatherly love of God, it 
sometimes happens that from some oft-repeated 
passage of the Bible the light will break which 
supplies what we need. We had often read it 
before, but never attached any important mean- 
ing to it ; but now it seems as if written for 
us, since the mysterious word and the mysteri- 
ous experience explain each other. Considered 
apart, we hardly know how to interpret them ; 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



71 



but, taken together, both are clear. It may be 
the Bible, which is obscure. There are many 
passages which have sorely puzzled commenta- 
tors, and our text is among the number. They 
have found it difficult to understand and to har- 
monize these with their formularies of faith and 
established opinions. Experience here, as in so 
many cases, may be a better interpreter than the 
critics. Explain God's word by his works. Try 
to find its interpretation in real life, in your own 
life, if you can, where the comment is written by 
God's own hand. Let us, then, take up together 
our text and its living illustration : " 1 rejoice 
in my sufferings, and fill up in my flesh that 
which is behind of the afflictions of Christ, for 
his body's sake, which is the Church." 

In this sentence, two facts are stated; and 
from these a third may be legitimately deduced. 
In the first place, there is something lacking in 
the sufferings of Christy some deficiency in his 
mediatorial work which needs to be supplied. 
The text affirms, in the second place, that this 
lack or deficiency can be supplied by something 
which men may do ; in short, Paul says that he 
fills up the lack by his own sufferings. And, 
thirdly, we may infer, from these two facts, that 
the effects produced by human sufferings may 
be the same in kind as those of Christ, though 
infinitely smaller in degree ; in other words, that 
the effects of Christ's sufferings and death in the 



72 



FILL UP WHAT IS LACKING IN 



redemption of the world are not mysterious and 
peculiar in their nature, but analogous to those 
which we see follow from the sufferings of men. 
You will notice that the statements of the text, 
and the inference which naturally follows from 
them, have a direct bearing on some very im- 
portant theological questions, especially on that 
greatest question of controversy, the efficacy of 
the death of Christ in human redemption. I see 
not how this passage can be explained consist- 
ently with the popular belief on this subject, 
without perverting its obvious meaning. Indeed, 
the difficulty in its interpretation seems to me to 
come almost wholly from the attempt to reconcile 
it with the doctrine. For ourselves, we are per- 
plexed with no such difficulty ; we see a plain 
meaning in the words, and we are willing to 
believe that Paul meant what he says ; and, more 
than this, for us the passage contains precious 
truth. We must bear in mind that the same 
Paul is speaking, who, in other figurative pas- 
sages, furnishes most of the proof-texts for the 
doctrine of the vicarious nature of Christ's 
death. Here he is speaking plainly, and without 
figure, on the same subject ; and what does he 
say? 

As plainly as words can express it, he says 
this : that there is something lacking or deficient 
in the sufferings of Christ. Dogmatists tell us 
of the infinite sacrifice, of the all-sufficient atone- 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 73 

ment, of the complete satisfaction wrought out 
for sinners by the death of the Saviour. Paul 
speaks differently, of " that which is lacking" in 
those sufferings. What does he mean by this ? 
To know what the lack is, we must first settle 
the perplexing question, What is the efficacy of 
Christ's sufferings ? Upon whom is the work 
of the atonement wrought ? I answer, and I 
think that the text we are considering, as well as 
the general tenor of the New Testament, confirm 
it, that the efficacy of those sufferings is upon 
men. God is not influenced by them ; they 
were not offered to appease his wrath, nor to buy 
off his justice ; they do not pay to him the 
sinner's penalty. Men were the only persons 
who needed to be changed. God is the loving 
Father always, and no change is needed in him ; 
but men are not obedient children. The suffer- 
ings of Christ must have their efficacy upon 
them, and they are efficacious in drawing men to 
God. 

But it is objected, if this simple and natural 
explanation of their efficacy be the true one, 
why is it, that, throughout the Scriptures, so 
great stress is laid upon the sufferings and death 
of Christ ? We answer, because they are the 
most important and the essential parts of the life 
and work of Christ. They do not accomplish the 
whole ; they do not miraculously influence God 
and man. But they do much; they have been 



74 FILL UP WHAT IS LACKING IN 



the great instruments in the redemption of the 
world. The history of Christianity affords a 
striking fulfilment of the words of Christ, a If 
I be lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men 
unto me." From the cross have come the most 
potent influences for the salvation of men. I be- 
lieve that the death of Christ was essential to his 
work ; that without this last attestation to the 
truth, without the name of the crucified one, 
Christianity could never have triumphed. At 
any rate, we know that God in his wisdom 
ordained it thus. We cannot spare one mid- 
night watch, one tear-drop, one cry of agony; 
least of all can we spare the cross. We do not 
believe, however, that these do their work by 
any mysterious process ; that in them Christ was 
bearing the wrath of God, and suffering the 
bitter punishment of the sins of the world. He 
suffered for us, but not in our stead. If this 
had not been so, if it had been a mysterious 
reconciliation of an offended God which he 
effected, could Paul have said that there was an 
incompleteness in the sufferings of Christ, and 
an incompleteness which he himself could fill 
up ? No : it is the reconciliation of sinful man 
to the loving God, which is the reconciliation 
and atonement wrought by Christ. 

We are now ready to consider what is the 
deficiency in those sufferings to which Paul 
alludes. How clear our text is, in the light of 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



75 



the truth just stated! The deficiency is with 
men. All men are not redeemed from sin ; the 
sufferings and death of Christ have been in vain, 
so far as some are concerned; his atonement lias 
not reached them ; they are not reconciled to 
God, but they are yet in their sins. This is a 
simple matter of fact. Christ has suffered and 
died ; and yet he has not accomplished all God's 
purpose, he has not redeemed all. There is, 
then, a deficiency in those sufferings as a means 
of redemption ; and this deficiency exists now, 
and will exist so long as all men are not good 
children of God. 

How, then, is this deficiency supplied ? Paul 
in our text mentions one way. " I fill up," he 
says, " that which is behind." He is writing to 
the Colossians from his prison-house at Rome ; 
and he rejoices in his sufferings, because they 
supply, in some measure, what was wanting. 
This is strictly in conformity with our view of 
the efficacy of Christ's death. The apostle had 
followed in his Master's steps : he had taken up 
his cross, and journeyed on. Probably as many 
of the Colossians had been drawn to Christ by 
Paul's sufferings in behalf of the faith as by his 
preaching. Nor is this true of Paul alone. 
Christ has consecrated pain and suffering for all 
coming time. They are the ministers of God 
for the salvation of men. It is still the cross 
everywhere, the cross reared now as well as that 



76 



FILL UP WHAT IS LACKING IN 



which stood on Calvary, which is the most effect- 
ive human instrument for the advancement of 
the gospel in individual hearts and in the world. 
In this way does God often fill up now to his 
children that which is lacking in the sufferings 
of Christ. There is a deep spiritual meaning 
in the text, which is the key to many of our 
perplexing experiences, if we will but use it. 
Are not the sufferings and death of Christ lack- 
ing in some measure of influence to you ? Yes, 
if their purpose is not answered, if they have 
not led you to God. The deficiency must be 
supplied. How shall it be done ? The cross of 
Christ has been to you of no avail. God may, 
in his love for you, lay the cross on one you love 
yet more than Christ, if, perchance, his cross 
has not wrought out for you and for your loved 
one the needful grace. 

I think that this thought of the apostle throws 
much light upon many trying experiences of life. 
It helps us to solve that dark mystery of pain 
which comes more or less into every lot, and 
which must be borne, if the end cannot other- 
wise be answered. There are some sufferings 
which cause us no surprise ; they seem to be 
only what we should expect as the natural pen- 
alty for the violation of God's laws. When very 
wicked men suffer, we have a feeling that they 
are only receiving their deserts. If this were 
all, earthly suffering would furnish no difficulty 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



77 



to our faith. But this is not all. The good, 
the holy, the pure, the innocent, suffer ; and 
sometimes, we think, even more than others. 
What can be the reason of this ? Is God just, 
thus to afflict his best children ? They are fol- 
lowing in the thorny path which the Master trod 
before them ; they are bearing the cross for the 
good of men. Perhaps it is our friends who are 
the sufferers. We cannot see why they should 
endure weariness and pain, and at last die. Is 
God just to them ? It may be that years of pain 
are to be borne, and that the body is to be bowed 
down with a life-long and hopeless disease. It 
may be that the blight of an early death may 
fall upon a family, and crush out its joy. Per- 
haps it is a child who is the sufferer : its few 
days are days of pain ; and, when it dies, a feeling 
of relief comes into the heart of the parents, 
because their child is at rest. Why did God 
allow this ? My friends, they may have been 
bearing the cross for you. They were filling up 
in your hearts that which was lacking in the 
sufferings of Christ. They suffered, that, by the 
ministry of tears, your souls might be opened to 
receive the gracious influences from heaven, and 
your hearts be drawn to the Father. Has this 
cross, too, been in vain, and is that which is 
lacking to you in the sufferings of Christ not 
yet filled up? 

This dark fact of human suffering has, then, 



78 FILL UP WHAT IS LACKING IN 

a divine significance. It is not for the sufferer 
alone. Jesus was not only made perfect himself 
by suffering ; but to his cross how many sin-sick 
souls have looked, and been healed ! And to men 
it may be given to continue the same blessed 
work by the same means. Christ did not do all 
which was needful for the redemption of the 
world from sin. God has required each genera- 
tion to do for itself some part of the redemptive 
work. Perhaps it may, in his providence, de- 
volve on you to make the connecting link between 
the heart of your child and God. Christ has 
offered his great sacrifice, but it does not reach 
him. The great cable now lies dumb beneath 
the mighty waters. No whisper of thought runs 
along its silent wires. Expectant souls are list- 
ening, craving but a word; yet it speaks not. 
It may be, that but a single inch, but a hair's ' 
breadth, of the three thousand miles of wire is 
parted ; yet that one hair's breadth makes use- 
less all the rest. And so it is with the human 
soul. Christ has offered his great sacrifice and 
done his mediatorial work, and yet it touches not 
the heart of your child. One little link is uncon- 
nected. Your sacrifice may be God's appointed 
means of welding the broken link ; and, when 
that is done, the celestial pulses may flow on 
unimpeded in their sanctifying course. It is an 
inspiring thought, my brethren, that, in the suf- 
ferings which God appoints for us, we may have 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



79 



some share even in Christ's great work ; that we 
may fill up that which is lacking in his sacrifice. 
And if this be so, can we not have patience to 
bear worthily our cross ; knowing that if we so 
do, " as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, 
so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ." 



X. 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



John xvii. 20, 21 : " Neither pray I for these alone, but 

FOR THEM ALSO WHICH SHALL BELIEVE ON ME THROUGH 
THEIR WORD ; THAT TH^Y ALL MAY BE ONE ; AS THOU, 

Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may 

BE ONE IN US." 



T first sight, Christianity seems to be 



founded upon two opposite and almost mu- 
tually destructive principles. In the first place, 
it is intensely individual and personal. It deals, 
not with mankind, but with individuals ; not 
with all men, but with each man. Other reli- 
gions have been national ; they have addressed 
themselves to the wants, and intertwined them- 
selves with the prejudices, of a single race ; and 
so they have been local and partial and tran- 
sient. But Christianity, in that it has adapted 
itself to each man, has spoken to all men. 
Through its very individualism, it is universal. 
It passes by all adventitious circumstances of 
race, education, condition, and speaks to man as 
man ; and, wherever a human heart is beating, 
it is sure of a response. Christ comes to you, 
and speaks to you, as if you were the only 




CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



81 



child of the Father in heaven. Upon you singly 
shines that infinite love; you are the object of 
his special care and his watchful guidance ; over 
you he gives his angels charge, to keep you in 
all your ways. Every promise and every warn- 
ing, every word of encouragement and every 
expression of affection, all are yours. Duty, 
with its solemn obligation, comes home to you 
alone ; no other can take your place, or assume 
your responsibility ; and when that duty is neg- 
lected, " thou art the man." For each sin com- 
mitted, for each guilt incurred, but one can make 
amends, but one can repent. " I have sinned 
against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more 
worthy to be called thy child ; " and the sweet 
whisper of forgiveness is for the penitent him- 
self to hear, standing alone by the mercy-seat. 
And for you God sent his Son into the world : 
Jesus came and taught and suffered and died, 
to lead you to his Father and your Father. His 
line of discipleship may divide asunder the closest 
earthly relations, husband and wife, mother and 
daughter, the one following, the other rejecting, 
the dear Master ; because each by himself has 
his choice to make, his stand to take, for or 
against him. Each soul stands alone in its must 
momentous concerns, in its dealing with God, 
and in its responsibility to him. 

Thus intensely personal is the religion of 
Christ ; and yet, at the same time, it is intensely 

6 



82 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



social in all its tendencies. Individualism is 
joined with fellowship. Never was there a re- 
ligion whose natural effect has been to draw its 
disciples so strongly together. The love for the 
brethren whom we have seen, is the witness and 
testimony to our love for the Father whom we 
have not seen. In the early times, so complete 
was the union of disciples, that they even had 
all things common. They were united as one 
man, in their efforts to spread the gospel. They 
shared the joys of their precious faith together, 
and thus increased them. Their zeal was quick- 
ened, and fanned into a burning flame, by com- 
munion with the brethren. They found help, as 
they pursued the quiet path of daily Christian 
duty, by walking in it together, each helping the 
other with a brother's hand. Though we have 
not in our day the warmth of brotherly feeling 
which animated them, we have yet enough of 
fellowship, to see that our faith is, in its nature, 
cementing, cohesive, vivifying. 

Does this seem a strange conjunction, individ- 
ualism and fellowship, both working harmoni- 
ously ? The blending of these two dissimilar 
tendencies is essential to the best development 
of Christian life in the individual and in the 
Church. They are like the centripetal and centrif- 
ugal forces in nature, which are opposite indeed, 
but are both essential to hold suns and stars in 
their orbits. The universe would become chaos, 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



83 



if one of these should rule alone. And so, in 
the religion of Christ, the very strength and 
efficacy of its fellowship comes ^ from the fact 
that it is not a form, but is based on an act- 
ual affinity of individual wills, purposes, and 
sympathies. 

There is a union which practically ignores the 
individual, sinking him in the mass. It is disas- 
trous in its results, and fatal to all true nobleness 
of character. The manliness and strength are 
crushed out of that man who suffers himself 
thus to be joined with his fellows. He is only a 
cipher in society, adding merely his dead weight, 
not his intelligent will and independent thought, 
to the great whole. Neither is this mechanical 
union, even when it is realized in the highest 
degree, effective for practical work. It does not 
bring the whole man into its service, but only 
the weakest part of him ; it does not enlist the 
energy of his will, the living power of his mind, 
the inspiration of his soul. It is the force of 
gravitation, not of life. And it is weak even in 
its cohesive power. It is the unity of the sand- 
hill, the particles of which are close to each 
other, but have no vital connection, no affinity. 
Once separated, they will never come together 
again. The true Christian fellowship may be 
likened to the attraction between the magnet 
and the particles of iron. The one draws all 
within its range to itself; and each particle, 



84 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



once joined, becomes itself magnetic to attract 
others. So, when the attraction of the Saviour's 
love reaches human hearts, they are not merely 
drawn to him, but to each other ; and each be- 
comes himself a centre of attraction to all about 
him. 

So the unity which Christ must bring about 
among his disciples is not a mechanical union, 
but a unity of will, of purpose, of life. It is not 
outward conjunction ; but it is, in one word, fel- 
lowship. Coming together does not make Chris- 
tians one ; but they cannot help being drawn 
together, because they are one : in so far as they 
are Christians, they sympathize in a common pur- 
pose, they rejoice in a common joy, they are busy 
in the same work, and they love the same Master. 
They are fellow-soldiers. Have I used the wrong 
word here, as an illustration ? Some have indeed 
said, that, the nearer to a machine an army could 
be brought, the better would be the army. This 
cannot be true, except in a very limited sense. 
The union even of an army ought not to be 
mechanical, if one would secure its highest effici- 
ency. I remember that one of our best generals, 
when speaking to me most enthusiastically of the 
soldiers under him, as the highest praise and 
strongest ground of his confidence in them, said, 
" The very privates in my army discuss the deep- 
est questions of the Constitution ; they know ex- 
actly what they are fighting for." And was he not 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



85 



right ? Intelligent purpose adds untold power. 
A man is inspired to do and dare, by the great 
cause for which he stands as the representative, 
and of which, in time of need, he feels that he is 
the standard-bearer. This is the unity which is 
needed in the Church, an intelligent unity, the 
unity of the spirit. It is a weak bond of associa- 
tion, when men take part merely in the observance 
of the same ceremonies, and in the use of the 
same form of sound words. But when Christians 
come together and join hands, warmed by a com- 
mon zeal, and devoted to a common purpose, 
and filled with mutual love, they are invincible. 
Mere formal union, then, is not sufficient ; but 
unity of spirit, fellowship. 

I believe that here is our great weakness as a 
denomination. The connection is very loose 
which binds one church to another. We take 
care of ourselves, and let other churches take care 
of themselves : live if they can, die if they must; 
but the living or dying of one is of no great 
interest to the others. Whatever we do, we do by 
ourselves. And so we lose that great source of 
strength, which is, in its abuse, sectarianism, but 
which, in its proper use, is church-fellowship. 
We talk about being a small denomination, as if 
that were a good reason why we do so little. 
There was a little Christian community in Herrn- 
hut in Germany, numbering only about six hun- 
dred members, or not many more than we have 



86 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



in this society ; a church it was, in the true sense 
of that word, devoted, united in spirit as well as 
in form. They felt that upon Christians de- 
volved the duty of spreading the gospel. They 
did not wait till they had grown larger, but they 
began the work at once. In nine years, they had 
established missionaries at the very extremities 
of the earth ; at Greenland, St. Thomas, St. 
Croix, Surinam, among the Indians of North 
America, the negroes of South Carolina, at Lap- 
land, Tartary, Algiers, the Cape of Good Hope, 
the island of Ceylon, and elsewhere. And this 
was done by a small church of only six hundred 
members ! We need not excuse ourselves from 
any Christian work, even the greatest, because 
we are few in numbers : " all things are possible 
to him that believeth." 

And so, in our relation to each other as fellow- 
Christians, we must not stand so much upon our 
individuality. We must not make our very reli- 
gion a selfish possession ; we must not be iso- 
lated from each other, so far as communion of 
religious thought and experience and sympa- 
thy are concerned, as if we were in the desert. 
We must receive and give, help and be helped. 
We are not three or four hundred individuals 
wending our lonesome way through trials and 
temptations : but we are a Christian Church, 
bound to help each other ; brothers, according to 
the dear old Christian name. We can do some- 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 87 

thing, as individual workers, for the cause of 
Christ ; but how much less than if we were one 
body, bearing down with irresistible force upon all 
evil and vice ! What if General Gilmore should 
fire continually at Fort Sumter with two hundred 
one-pound guns ? The rebels there would laugh 
him to scorn. One two-hundred-pounder would 
be more efficient than a thousand such pieces. 
We can hardly estimate the influence which a 
firmly united body, if consisting only of a hun- 
dred Christians, would exert in a community : it 
would be well-nigh irresistible. 

I love to think of our society here, brethren, 
as a great Christian family. We all, I hope, 
with differing degrees of earnestness, are seeking 
the same end, and trying to be faithful to the 
same Lord. We own one common allegiance. 
When prosperity comes to any, I hope that we 
are all glad. When we pray for the afflicted, I 
hope that all our hearts lift up their prayers, in 
Christian sympathy, that the good Father may 
comfort those who mourn, and make up to them 
their loss out of his infinite fulness ; and that, 
as one after another of those who have been with 
us passes on, we may take up the duty which 
they have relinquished, and leave not God's 
work undone. We have in common, brethren, 
much that is best and holiest in our lives. Can 
we not throw off our reserve, and permit the 
love which Christians should bear to each other 



88 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. 



to grow warm by expression ? We know not 
how much God's work would gain, how much 
each one of us would gain in joy, in strength, 
in earnestness, if we drew nearer together, and 
joined hands in true Christian fellowship. My 
friends, Christ's prayer was not alone for his dis- 
ciples, but for all who should believe in him 
through their word ; " that they all may be one," 
one in spirit, in affection, in sympathy, in all 
Christian work. 



XL 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



Acts i. 8: "Ye shall receive power, after that the Holt 
Ghost is come upon you; and ye shall be witnesses 
unto me, both in jerusalem, and in all judea, and 
in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the 

EARTH." 



ITH how much interest "would the whole 



' » Christian world hear the intelligence, if 
some scholar, searching among the musty parch- 
ments of Oriental monasteries, should discover 
a journal kept by the Apostle Peter during 
his Christian work ; or a missionary record of 
the Apostle Paul ; or, perhaps, a little history 
of the beginning of the Church, written by some 
companion and friend of the apostles ! 

In the book of the Acts, we have what may be 
considered a combination of these three. It was 
written by an intelligent and educated man; a 
native of Antioch, which was at that time the lit- 
erary metropolis of the world ; one who was by 
profession a physician. He had the best means 
of informing himself, both from personal obser- 
vation and from the mouth of the actors in those 
scenes, of the truth of the history he would 




90 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



relate. He had become acquainted, in his exten- 
sive travels, with the principal men in the Chris- 
tian Church ; and he himself was a companion 
and intimate friend of the great Apostle to the 
Gentiles. In fact, he accompanied Paul to Rome v 
when he went thither a prisoner, to abide the 
issue of his appeal to the emperor. It was at 
Rome, under the eye and supervision of the 
apostle, we may suppose, that he wrote the his- 
tory which we call the Book of the Acts. It 
was written, in the first instance, for a personal 
friend of his, an eminent Italian Christian, by 
the name of Theophilus ; the same person for 
whose instruction he had just before prepared 
what we call the Gospel of Luke. 

It covers the space of only about thirty-two 
years ; but what momentous years they were in 
the history of the world ! It narrates the events 
from the ascension of Christ to the end of Paul's 
ministry. How much is included in that short 
time ! Jesus had finished his personal work on 
earth. He had given to the world his Father's 
message. He had manifested God to man. He 
had been crucified. He had risen from the dead. 
The precious gospel was now intrusted to hu- 
man hands, that through them it might influence 
the world. The book of the Acts tells us how 
Christianity came in contact with actual life ; 
how it took its first step toward that universal 
dominion, which is its right and its sure prom- 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



91 



ise. Scarcely ever was a faith more centred in 
its founder than was Christianity in Jesus dur- 
ing his stay on earth. The disciples were only 
scholars in his school. They hardly thought or 
acted for themselves. In every case of diffi- 
culty or doubt, they referred to their Master. 
They took no responsibility ; they felt the bur- 
den of no care. But a change has now come. 
They are alone. They have just heard Christ's 
last farewell, as he ascended blessing them ; and 
they have just returned, joyful and sad too, to 
Jerusalem. 

At this point our history begins. What a 
beginning! A little company, dispirited, bewil- 
dered, almost stunned by the events of the past 
seven weeks, which included the cruel death, 
the resurrection, and the ascension of their Mas- 
ter, they met in the upper chamber of a Hebrew 
house, but one hundred and twenty in all ; the 
fruits of Christ's three years' ministry. Here 
was the first church, the only Christian church 
in the world, numbering scarcely more names 
than are attached to our own simple confession, 
which is the same as theirs, that Jesus Christ 
is the Son of God. From this time forward, 
Christianity goes forth conquering and to con- 
quer. In this book is narrated the first steps 
of this marvellous progress. The historian tells 
us of the wonders of the day of Pentecost, of 
the first sermon by a Christian preacher, of mir- 



92 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



acles and signs wrought in the name of Jesus, 
of the first martyrdom. He tells us how the 
gospel passed over to the Gentiles. Perhaps, 
as we read of that, we may not appreciate its 
full significance. We are of the Gentile branch 
of the Church. The question was, whether the 
gospel should be offered to us. Hitherto it had 
been addressed merely to the Jews. The bigoted 
Jewish prejudices of the apostle were overcome 
only by the special interposition of the Holy Spirit ; 
and, in the baptism of Cornelius, that question 
was for ever settled. Christianity rose from a 
sect of Judaism into a universal religion. 

We have in this book, also, the history of him 
to whom was intrusted the special work of bear- 
ing the gospel to all nations ; the record of 
the marvellous transformation of a Pharisee 
of the Pharisees to a Christian missionary, of a 
persecutor to an apostle ; the account of the 
words and labors so abundant, of the perils by 
land and perils by sea, of the great Saul of Tar- 
sus, who, next to the Master, has left the deepest 
impress of himself on the Christian Church, and 
who has given to us more than a fourth part of 
the writings of the New Testament. 

How much of interest and of instruction for 
us this little history by the " beloved physician " 
contains ! It leads us back to the feeble and 
unnoticed beginnings of our faith ; and it gives 
us a glimpse of that early Christian life which 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



93 



wrought such wonders upon the world. As we 
trace thus the footsteps of the Holy Spirit in 
history, we prize more highly that religion which, 
through such providence, has come down to us ; 
which God has now intrusted to our feeble hands, 
to be cherished and to be propagated. How 
wonderful was the progress which our religion 
made in that short time whose history is here 
recorded ! At the beginning of the book, we see 
a little band of believers, gathered, in doubt and 
in fear, under the shadow of the Jewish temple. 
Thirty years after, when Luke was writing this 
account at Rome, the name of Jesus had been 
proclaimed, and flourishing churches had been 
established, throughout the length and breadth 
of the Roman Empire. Does Christianity have 
that life and that power now ? There are some 
features peculiar to the apostolic administration 
of the gospel, and to the spirit of the early 
Christians, which may account, in part at least, 
for this wonderful success of their labors. 

It is very instructive for us to see, as we can 
see in this history, the form in which these early 
preachers presented Christianity to those whom 
they would lead to receive it. Did they present 
a system of belief to the acceptance of those who 
heard them? Very far from it. The burden 
of their preaching, as here recorded, from Peter's 
sermon on the day of Pentecost to Paul's preach- 
ing at Rome, is simply this : " Repent, and be 



94 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



baptized in the name of Jesus Christ." The 
creed in whose name such marvels of conversion 
were wrought was a very simple one. It had 
but one article : " Jesus is the Christ." "Would 
that the Church had always adhered to the sim- 
plicity of the truth as it is in Jesus ! We find 
in this book few words which bear on the contro- 
versies of later times. Sectarian theologians 
rarely come to its plain and easy pages to draw 
the proof-texts with which to uphold a favorite 
dogma or to ban heresy. The simple reason 
why they are not found here is, I think, because 
these controversies and these dogmas were born 
long after these words were written. 

One might say, then, that the book of the 
Acts has no dogmatic value. On the contrary, 
it seems to me to be of inestimable value in refer- 
ence to this very subject. The significance of 
its omissions weighs more even than strong asser- 
tions would weigh. Apply this to a single doc- 
trine (and it may be applied to many others) : I 
mean the doctrine of the Trinity. We have in 
this book the history of the founding of the 
Christian Church. We have the addresses of 
the apostles to those to whom they would explain 
what Christianity was. It covers the time during 
which our religion spread most rapidly among 
those who before were entirely ignorant of it, 
and during which it gained its foothold in the 
world. The fundamental truths of the religion 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



95 



must necessarily appear prominent here. The 
doctrine of the Trinity, so remarkable in itself, 
so new, so opposed to all Jewish views, could 
not silently have taken its place among received 
truths. If actually taught by the apostles, it 
is incredible that we should find no allusion to 
it in this history. Yet we find not a hint of it 
in the record of these thirty years of apostolic 
labor and success. I cannot avoid the conclusion 
that it formed no part of the primitive Christian 
faith. If the doctrine was believed, then, it 
would have left tokens of itself. We find these 
marks, indeed, in Christian history ; but not till 
three hundred years later, in the corrupt and 
philosophizing age of Constantine. 

Even more in contrast with the present times 
was the spirit which filled those early believers ; 
the spirit of Christian love, harmony, and good- 
will. That one relation of Christian fellowship 
outweighed all other relations. They were as 
one family. What an attractive picture is given 
of their Christian love in this book ! It is said, 
"And the multitude of them that believed were 
of one heart and of one soul ; neither said any of 
them that aught of the things which he pos- 
sessed was his own : but they had ail things 
common." This new feeling of brotherly love 
repressed all selfish feelings ; and the wealthier 
among them regarded their property as not their 
own in any selfish sense, so ready were they to 



96 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



share it with their needy brethren. They were 
all as brothers together. It was delightful to 
belong to such a community ; and it is no won- 
der that a body pervaded with such a spirit 
should increase so rapidly. They simply lived 
up to the rule of Christ, and obeyed his law of 
love. 

Another characteristic of the early Christian 
community which is recorded in our history, was 
a direct product of the religion of Christ, and 
contributed much to its wonderful progress : I 
mean the missionary spirit. Their love, deep 
as it was for their own brotherhood, yet embraced 
all men. It sought to draw all into the blessed 
circle of Christian joy and fellowship. The last 
charge of Christ to his apostles was that they 
should teach all nations ; and they began imme- 
diately and in earnest to enter on this great work. 
The book of the Acts gives us an account of 
these efforts for the propagation of the gospel. 
It is, in fact, a missionary journal. Thus did 
the Christian community grow strong at home, 
by what it did abroad. In imparting to others, 
it increased its own store ; and soon Christian 
communities sprung up in all the principal cities 
of the Roman Empire, filled with the same 
spirit of brotherly love, of loyalty to the Master. 
They prized Christianity for the salvation it had 
brought to them ; and how could they neglect 
to lead others into the same blessed light and 



THE BOOK OF THE ACTS. 



97 



peace ? They were true to that great law of eccle- 
siastical and individual Christian life, that, in 
order to live, we must grow ; that, in order to 
keep our own faith, we must impart it to others. 

Do we wonder, as in this simple narrative we 
trace God's marvellous work accomplished by 
means of his chosen instruments ? TTe have 
the same gift which filled them with such rap- 
ture, and inspired them to such sacrifices. We 
have still the everlasting gospel. It has not 
lost one jot of its power or of its inspiration. 
If it fails, it is because the human hearts which 
receive it are waxed cold, and respond not to its 
stirring influences. The same message which 
Paul and Peter proclaimed, we offer to-day. The 
burden of Christian preaching is still the same. 
Would we renew in the Church the glories of 
the apostolic age? We must bring the Church 
back to the apostolic pattern, to its simple faith, 
to its earnest zeal for the advancement of Christ's 
cause, to its rule of love. 



7 



XII. 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



Rom. v. 1, 2 : " Therefore, being justified by faitit, we 

HAVE PEACE WITH GOD THROUGH OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, 
BY WHOM ALSO WE HAVE ACCESS BY FAITH INTO THIS 
GRACE WHEREIN WE STAND." 



-L^ Romans is devoted to the exposition and 
illustration of the grounds of man's acceptance 
with God. God sent us into this world. We 
must answer to him for the life we live. What 
in our life and character does he approve and 
look upon with favor ? Living in what way, will 
he accept us as his dutiful children ? In other 
words, what are the grounds of acceptance and 
of salvation, and what justifies us before God ? 
Paul answers, that we are justified by faith ; that 
this is the righteousness which God accepts. 
" Thus do we have access into that grace where- 
in we stand." 

You notice how much importance Paul at- 
taches to this view. He considers it to be the 
very essence of the gospel, the greatest of all its 
blessed revelations. He returns to it again and 
again in his Epistles ; he explains and enforces 




whole of Paul's letter to the 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



99 



it ; he illustrates it on every side. The doctrine 
is no less important and no less vital to Chris- 
tianity now. It is not of temporary application, 
but it is of permanent and unchangeable interest. 
Let us, then, see if we may not arrive at a clear 
idea of what righteousness by faith is, that we 
may apply the joy-giving truth which it expresses 
to our own practical comfort and peace. 

Perhaps we may come to a clearer understand- 
ing of our subject, by considering that doctrine to 
which Paul opposes this. He is constantly com- 
paring the righteousness by faith, which justifies, 
with the righteousness by the law, which cannot 
justify. What is this legal righteousness, against 
which he so often argues and exhorts ? He him- 
self says, " Moses describeth the righteousness 
which is of the law, that the man which doeth 
those things shall live by them." Here the em- 
phatic word is doing. A man is righteous ac- 
cording to the law, when he obeys it completely, 
when he fulfils every requisition, when he sins 
not in a single respect. There are certain things 
which revelation and our own consciences assure 
us to be our duty. The law commands us inexo- 
rably to do these things, and to fail not in the 
slightest particular. It has no lenity, no adapta- 
tion to human weakness ; but it is hard and 
unrelenting, and it declares that we must do. or 
suffer the penalty. It takes no account of ex- 
cuses ; it has no indulgence for partial perform- 



100 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



ances ; it demands the exact, the entire obedience. 
Nothing less satisfies its claims ; nothing short 
of this complete fulfilment makes a man right- 
eous by the law. Thought, word, act, all must 
be exactly true, swerving not a hair's breadth 
from the right line. 

Now, if any man could offer this perfect obe- 
dience, we might perhaps say that he had earned 
his salvation : though even then he could hardly 
think of merit ; for, " when ye shall have done all 
those things which are commanded you, say, We 
are unprofitable servants : we have done [only] 
that which it was our duty to do." Such a man 
has no merit even then ; for he has received all 
that he has earned. Yet, if one had this perfect 
obedience, he would be " justified by works." 
By these must he be justified, according to the 
law, if he be at all. 

But who has this legal righteousness, this per- 
fect obedience ? Will you expect it of man, 
feeble, imperfect, erring, who too often chooses 
evil, and, even when he chooses good, so often 
does what is wrong ? Will you tell him to earn 
his salvation ; to trust in his own righteousness, 
which merits heaven? God pity the man who 
has nothing but his own merit to stand upon ! 
We do not merit the enjoyment of this world ; 
how much less the joy of heaven ! Who can, I 
do not say who does, but who can, have this en- 
tire obedience? Can you, my friend? Think 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



101 



what the law requires. Christ sums it up briefly : 
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
mind, and with all thy strength, and thy neigh- 
bor as thyself." It is " with the whole heart," 
and " thy neighbor as thyself." Can you offer 
that? Then, and then only, talk about merit 
in the sight of God, and hope to be justified by 
works. Who of us would dare to rest upon that, 
as his only hope ? How far short does the best 
obedience come of this standard! Who of us 
could stand up without trembling, and utter the 
heathen's prayer, " Lord, give me what I de- 
serve " ? No : there is no perfect obedience ; 
and he who approaches nearest to it is only 
the more painfully conscious of his failures, of 
his shortcomings, of his sinfulness, as he com- 
pares himself with the perfect and holy law of 
God. 

There would be nothing left for the best man 
but despair, if complete obedience were the only 
way to God's favor. But " thanks be to God 
for his unspeakable gift." We are not required 
to earn heaven. God's grace is free ; his mercy 
is unbought. He, in his love, counts faith unto 
us for righteousness. What, then, is that faith 
which justifies us, and which God will accept in 
lieu of that perfect outward obedience which is 
impossible ? 

We find that the apostle does not mean by 



102 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



the term any single act, but a temper of mind 
pervading all acts. It is the temper of filial love 
and obedience ; it is the earnest desire to do 
God's will ; it is the spirit of self-surrender. 
The mission of Jesus was to say to men, not 
" Do, and you shall be accepted," but " Try to do, 
strive to do, desire to do what you can, and God 
will count that striving as righteousness to you ; 
he will accept it." In brief and plain words, 
this doctrine of justification by faith without the 
works of the law is this : if your will is conse- 
crated to God, if you sincerely and heartily try 
to be faithful, (though your experience be that 
of Paul, and you fain would say with him, " The 
good which I would I do not, and the evil which 
I would not, that I do,") yet God in mercy ac- 
cepts that will, and, notwithstanding all your 
imperfections, counts you as his child. Sinful 
as we all are, how much we need that merciful 
word ! Where could we rest without it ? What 
would be our hope ? It would be a crushing 
weight, if we had to carry alone the burden of all 
our sins. The better a man is, the more fearful 
is his consciousness of unworthiness. We long 
to rest on something besides our own deeds ; we 
want to anchor our hopes outside of ourselves, 
even on the Father's mercy. We long to cast 
our burden on one mightier than we. The reve- 
lation of righteousness by faith is the peace-giving 
answer to this longing. God justifies us, not by 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



103 



our works, but by our purposes ; not by our ac- 
tions, but by our hearts. 

To the weary, to the struggling, to those 
crushed with the sense of sin, this doctrine 
comes like a benediction. It does not set us 
free from work nor excuse us from striving ; but 
it gives the assurance, that our work, imperfect 
as it is, and our striving, if it be earnest, shall 
be accepted. If our faith be true, it must be 
joined to works. Do you think that a man can 
desire with all his heart to do God's will, and 
yet not do it? Must not the sincere faith, the 
true desire, be followed by consistent doing ? 
Surely this must follow, or the faith is vain. 
You may know that the root is dead, if the 
branches send forth no leaves. "As the body 
without the spirit is dead, so faith without works 
is dead also." 

This doctrine of the apostle, then, notwith- 
standing its obscure sound, which seems to con- 
nect it rather with metaphysical theology than 
with practical life, is really of universal application 
and of pressing need to all of us. Who does not 
need the assurance which it gives ? I have 
known those who have expected too much of 
themselves. There are some who feel afraid that 
they are not Christians, because, though they 
have the earnest desire to obey, they come so far 
short of their aim. They feel unhappy and dis- 
trustful. Now, there is such a thing as being too 



104 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



anxious. We can imagine a person so overpow- 
ered with the memory of past sins, and with the 
fear of temptations which may come, as to be 
unfitted to fight the good fight. It was wise 
counsel of the apostle, that we should forget the 
things which are behind, and press onward to 
those things which are before. Cast off the bur- 
den of the past, and do the best you can in the 
present, where alone duty lies. When determin- 
ing the ground of confidence, look not so much 
to what you do as to what you desire and pur- 
pose. Are you resolved to be a Christian ? Are 
you trying to be a Christian? Then you are 
already " justified by faith." Accept the gra- 
cious assurance, and have the peace with God 
which comes from righteousness by faith. He 
that wills to do His will, inherits the promise. 
You must be sure that you are really desirous 
to do it, that you are earnestly trying to do it ; 
and then, however great your shortcomings, you 
shall yet have peace. Know that the righteous- 
ness which is of faith and repentance is accepted 
by God. 

On this we must all rest. If God required 
perfect obedience as the only condition of accept- 
ance, what would be our hope ? But in mercy 
he accepts us, if we only seek to be accepted. 
Christ owns as his disciples even those weak 
ones, who through many sins are feebly but 
earnestly endeavoring to obey him. The world 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



105 



disowns a man on account of sin ; it scorns the 
sinner : but the repentant sinner is owned by 
the forgiving Master, and is accepted by the all- 
merciful Father. Blessed be that Father for his 
tender love ! Blessed be that Master for the 
revelation of mercy which came though him, and 
of which his life and death were the brightest 
manifestation ! Whoever tries to be a Christian 
is accepted as a disciple. He may come with 
all his burden of sin, and may cast it on the 
Lord, and go on his way penitent and rejoicing ; 
he may have peace with God ; he may feel the 
blessed assurance of forgiveness and of accept- 
ance. 

What more favorable condition could we ask 
than this, which is freely offered to us ? It is 
not perfection nor sinlessness, but only the sur- 
render of our will to God, the earnest desire to 
be obedient. There is no peace in legal right- 
eousness ; there is no peace in earning salvation : 
but there is peace and blessed assurance in the 
righteousness which is by faith. As Christians, 
my brethren, " we have not received the spirit of 
bondage again to fear, but we have received the 
spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." 



XIII. 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 

1 Cor. iii. 16: "Know ye not that ye are the temple of 
God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" 

TTF you read over the New Testament carefully, 
you will find on almost every page mysteri- 
ous words about the " Spirit," the " Holy Spirit," 
or the " Holy Ghost," which is only another 
translation of the same word. Christ, in his last 
conversation with his disciples, promises that the 
Father will send to them another Comforter, 
when he is taken away, who shall abide with 
them for ever ; even the Spirit of Truth, who shall 
dwell with them, and shall be in them. In the 
book of the Acts and in the letters of the apos- 
tles, we find that this promise was fulfilled among 
the early Christians. We meet constantly in 
those records such phrases as " speaking as the 
Spirit gave them utterance," " led by the Spirit," 
" the diversities of gifts which come through the 
Spirit," " filled with the Spirit," " the Spirit 
dwelling in them," "the communion and partak- 
ing of the Spirit," and numberless others of the 
same character. These words plainly point to 
something of which those early disciples had 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



107 



practical experience. It was something which 
they actually received. What did this " gift of 
the Spirit" mean to them? It meant that God 
dealt with their spirits to influence them for their 
good, to quicken them to duty, to enlighten their 
ignorance, to fill their hearts with joy and peace, 
and to inspire them with a power to feel and to 
think and to act beyond themselves. It meant 
that God acted upon them, not merely outwardly, 
through instruments, as upon the world, but di- 
rectly upon their souls. 

TTe do not doubt the record of the Xew Tes- 
tament ; we believe that the early Christians act- 
ually received this gift. Yet, as we read these 
glowing words about the Holy Spirit, they seem 
like the fossil remains of an extinct experience. 
The doctrine of the Holy Ghost is something 
vague and ghostly ; real to the companions of 
the apostles, but not real to us. "We believe in it 
as history ; but it is not to us a living truth, the 
statement of a present experience. 

But when did this direct influence of God 
upon the human soul cease ? We find no record 
of the fact of such cessation in the Xew Testa- 
ment. No limitation is made, either in the 
promise or in its fulfilment, to the Christians of 
that single age. Christ does not promise the 
Comforter to his followers of the next genera- 
tion after his crucifixion, but to all true disciples 
of his. It is for all Christians and for all time. 



108 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



It is true that the outward form of the divine in- 
fluence may differ with the needs of different 
ages. " The manifestation of the Spirit is given 
for the common profit," says Paul ; and so, from 
age to age, it takes that form which will best 
answer the wants of the human soul. In the 
first age, the Spirit manifested itself, in some 
cases, in the power of working miracles. That 
special development of power passed away with 
the special need. We enjoy it no longer, because 
we need it not. But though there are diversities 
of gifts, yet it is the same Spirit. 

The divine influence remains ; it is the ever- 
living God, who is no respecter of persons, whom 
we worship. We, too, are his children. He loves 
us, as he loved the early disciples of Christ. I 
believe, then, that the promise of Jesus and the 
utterances of his apostles are not merely the 
records of a venerable but buried experience. 
The promise has not yet been withdrawn. Dis- 
ciples still are baptized, as of old, into the name 
of the Holy Ghost. The dispensation of the 
Spirit has not yet closed. 

But where, in our present experience, can we 
find the facts which verify this doctrine, that 
human spirits are not cut off from the parent 
Spirit, but that God now enters into human souls 
and inspires them ? The doctrine of the Holy 
Spirit is the doctrine of the direct, immediate 
influence from God upon the soul of man. Do 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



109 



we find any trace of such intercourse now ? I 
think we clo. I believe that every true child of 
God enjoys this gift of the Spirit, though he may 
not know it by that name. I can but hint at the 
class of facts to which I allude. 

How many thoughts and feelings and purposes 
come into our minds, of whose origin we are not 
able to give the slightest account ! We feel 
impulses, leadings. We feel drawn to certain 
things, and repelled from certain other things. 
We feel moved to speak, or we hear a whisper 
from within that we had better keep silence. 
The thought, the word, the act, is not that which 
we had premeditated and reasoned out, but some- 
thing better than our own. 

We are conscious of strange yearnings, too, 
which fill and move us. Who ever did right, 
without first feeling something within strongly 
drawing him toward it ? Who ever did wrong, 
without feeling more or less strongly an inward 
shrinking from the evil ? But you say that is 
only conscience. Ah ! but what is conscience ? 
Do we suppose it is the result of certain machi- 
nery which God has set up within man, and then 
left it to run its course ? Do not deceive your- 
selves with names. What we call conscience is the 
voice of God in the soul. What are these vague, 
strange yearnings, which we all sometimes feel, 
but the threads, by which, without our knowing 
it, the Father is trying to lead his children 
aright ? 



110 THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 

Socrates, the purest, the best, the greatest 
philosopher of all heathen antiquity, in his de- 
fence before the tribunal which condemned him 
to death, speaks strange words about the guardian 
spirit which he felt had always directed his 
course in life. " I am moved," he says, " by a 
certain divine and spiritual influence ; it began 
with me in childhood, being a kind of voice. This 
wonted prophetic voice of my guardian deity, on 
every former occasion, even in the most trifling 
affairs, opposed me, if I was about to do any thing 
wrong." He followed this guidance implicitly, 
not knowing whence it came. A spirit is striv- 
ing with us too, trying to lead us ; we feel it, as 
much as he did. Do we know what spirit it 
is ? The heathen called it his guardian deity : 
we Christians know that it is the Spirit of 
God. 

In the first age of Christianity, in addition to 
this general form of which we have spoken, the 
gifts of the Spirit took also a more limited appli- 
cation. Jesus promises, that, in the hour when 
his disciples are brought before magistrates and 
kings for his sake, it shall be given them what 
they shall speak ; that he will give them an ut- 
terance and wisdom which all their adversaries 
shall not be able to gainsay nor resist. Is there 
not a gift of the Spirit still surviving, less in 
degree, but yet akin to this early gift of utter- 
ance ? Do you remember, in the introduction to 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. Ill 

the great epic of modern times, the prayer for 
this very gift ? 

" And chiefly thou, 0 Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples the upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me ; for thou know'st. 

What in me is dark, 
Illumine ; what is low, raise and support ; 
That, to the height of this great argument, 
I may assert eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men." 

Milton was not the man to use in poetic imagery, 
with vain form, such words as these. It was his 
prayer for guidance and direction from the Spirit 
of all truth; a prayer for something which he 
felt was a real need. 

Nor is this a rare experience. Some years 
ago, I listened to a conversation on this subject 
between two of the most gifted pulpit orators of 
our country, personally known to many of you, 
in which they agreed in a similar experience. 
They said that the thoughts in their sermons 
which made the deepest impression on those who 
heard them, and which did the most good, were 
not theirs. They could not account for them ; 
they had not reasoned them out ; all they knew 
about them was, that perhaps at the moment 
they flashed into their minds, and they merely 
spoke as the Spirit gave them utterance. And 
they asked whether the object of education 
and discipline was not this: to strengthen the 



112 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



mind, to purify the heart, to consecrate the will, 
and thus fit one to be a worthy instrument 
through which the Holy Spirit should have utter- 
ance. Now, is not this strange influence, whose 
guidance Socrates tried to follow ; for which 
Milton prayed to help him in his great work ; 
which every one, who speaks or writes earnestly, 
must needs feel ; and those inexplicable yearn- 
ings which we all have, leading us to good and 
away from evil : is it not the Holy Spirit striving 
with our spirits ? 

We know not what to make of these passages 
of our own experience, taken alone ; we know not 
what to make of those mysterious words of the 
New Testament about the Holy Spirit, if we take 
them alone. Do they not fit into each other, and 
is not each the other's interpreter? Do not 
these obscure passages of the Scripture give to 
these inexplicable passages of the deepest hu- 
man experience their Christian name, when they 
call them the influence of God's Spirit? We 
rejoice, then, to believe, that the Creator, God, is 
the Father also, continually renewing that which 
at first he gave ; that he has not separated a 
little fragment from himself, and left it alone ; 
but that the little spark of celestial fire is still 
kept alive from the great source, that the branch 
still draws its strength from the parent stocky 
that the little bay is refreshed by the tides which 
flow in and out from the boundless ocean. 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



113 



But, if this be 4he birthright of the human 
soul, how is it that to many these divine influ- 
ences come so seldom, and are felt so feebly, that 
they can hardly be recognized ? It is because 
there are conditions to the reception of this, as 
of all God's best gifts ; conditions, not on God's 
side, but on our side. The gift is ready for us, 
whenever we will take it. There is a place wait- 
ing for God in every human heart ; a holy of 
holies, perchance not yet consecrated. The man 
must dedicate this temple, and then the Lord 
will enter and dwell there. 

What are these conditions ? We can only 
name them. One is obedience. If we would feel 
strongly the divine influences, we must follow 
them. The Bible speaks of " quenching the 
Spirit." We do quench the Spirit, whenever we 
refuse to follow its leading and to give our- 
selves up to its guidance. We can shut our 
hearts to it, and then we no longer receive it. 
We must have the spirit of entire consecration 
to the will of God. A selfish purpose confuses 
our hearing. The jargon of worldly aims makes 
us deaf to the gentle whispers of the Holy Ghost. 
Jesus refers to this, when he says of himself, 
" My judgment is just, because I seek not mine 
own will, but the will of Him that sent me." He 
could listen without distraction to the voice from 
above ; and he mingled not its utterance with 
that of passion, desire, and selfishness. In the 

8 



114 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



proportion in which we have this same spirit, 
and pray to God sincerely for it, will come to us, 
clear and distinct, the voice of the Holy Spirit. 

Does not light come to us from this view upon 
that perplexing question of theology, the nature 
of inspiration ? If God thus deals with and 
speaks through our spirits, what higher inspira- 
tion can be possible than this, and are not we 
inspired ? I think we are, in the degree in which 
we have this influence. In the degree : that is 
the important point. It is said of Jesus, that 
the Spirit was given to him without measure. 
God dwelt in him fully. His whole nature was 
the temple of the Holy Ghost ; and so thoroughly 
was his will conformed to God's will, that he and 
the Father were one. So Jesus spoke perfectly 
God's thoughts and uttered God's truth, because 
the Holy Spirit without measure dwelt in him. 
Is there not in this very expression " without 
measure," as applied to Jesus, an implication 
that the same spirit in some slight measure abides 
in men ? Christians, we would say it reverently, 
have some sparks of that same Holy Spirit 
which filled the Saviour. Our inspiration is 
dim, incomplete, partial ; we see as through a 
glass darkly. His inspiration was full, complete, 
perfect. God was in him fully ; and so the words 
which he spoke were not his own, but the Father's 
who sent him. All sight of heavenly things is 
not cut off from us ; but we look at them, as the 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



115 



child through his piece of smoked glass looks at 
the sun. He sees the form of it ; but it is con- 
fused, dim, uncertain. These things become 
clear, as we become pure and holy, obedient and 
self-sacrificing. Yet our best insight is still ob- 
scure. But he in whom dwelt the fulness of the 
Spirit looked, as through the great object-glass, 
undimmed by earthly mists, undistorted by human 
passion ; nay, he saw the Father face to face. 
The Father had come and taken up his abode 
with him. We can implicitly trust in him, when 
he takes the things of God and declares them 
to us. 

But does not this influence from above trench 
upon human freedom ? There is indeed a mys- 
terious border-ground between the finite and the 
infinite. The mysteries of fate and freedom and 
necessity lie hidden there, in the dark. Human 
wisdom cannot answer all the hard questions 
which may be asked concerning them. But the 
answer here is not difficult. The striving of 
the Holy Spirit is influence, not compulsion. 
The Christian father is continually exerting a 
good influence upon his child; perhaps, with- 
out saying a word, he is trying to lead him to 
God, to strengthen him in virtue. The child 
follows this parental leading sometimes, and re- 
sists it sometimes ; and he is as free in following 
as in resisting it. So we freely yield to or 
neglect the influences of the Heavenly Father. 



116 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



And this is the fearful part of it : we are free, 
we can grieve away and quench the Holy Spirit, 
and resist the Divine leading. 

What momentous importance this adds to our 
acts of sin and to our victories over evil ! They 
take hold of " the powers of the world to come." 
Temptation assails a man. For the time, he is 
the central object in the universe. Hea\ en is 
tenderly bending over him ; unseen cords from 
above are drawing him to the right. The Father 
himself is whispering to his soul words of cour- 
age and strength. Such is the importance of 
each single contest you wage with sin. You 
have unseen allies ; heaven itself pauses, to 
know whether it be for you victory or ruin. 

And we know that God is not alone the Cre- 
ator, providing for his offspring ; but indeed a 
Father, dealing with the hearts, as well as pro- 
tecting the bodies, of his children. What earthly 
father would think that he performed his pa- 
rental duty, if he merely fed and clothed and 
protected his child ? Who would not seek also 
to influence him to good, to use this subtle power 
by which soul speaks to soul ? God thus speaks 
to us, soul to soul. How much comfort there is 
in the belief in a special Providence, which num- 
bers every hair of our heads, which directs every 
event, which sends sickness and health, pros- 
perity and trial, life and death, all in infinite and 
loving wisdom! How it gives us peace in the 



THE INDWELLING SPIRIT. 



117 



changes and chances of this mortal life ! The 
Holy Spirit is the special Providence of the soul. 
It stands in a nearer and tenderer relation to us 
than the other. Who would not follow, when he 
knows that it is God who leads the way ? Who 
would not obey, when he feels that that little 
whisper in his soul is the Father's voice to his 
child ? Thus " the Spirit itself beareth witness 
with our spirits, that we are the children of God ; 
and, if children, then heirs, heirs of God and 
joint-heirs with Christ." 



XIV. 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 
Matt. vi. 28 : " Consider the lilies of the field." 

IT was in the summer, when Jesus, having 
returned from an extensive preaching tour to 
his home at Capernaum, went up into one of the 
high hills which close in on every side the sea 
of Galilee, to speak to the multitude of the 
kingdom of God, which it was his mission to 
proclaim. There he was on the grassy slope of 
the mountain ; the multitude just below eagerly 
listening to his words ; Capernaum at a little 
distance on one side ; and, to the south, the blue 
waters of the lake glistening in the morning sun- 
light. It was no time for studied expressions 
or abstract discussions. Nature was all about 
them, speaking with the thousand-tongued beau- 
ties of the Galilean landscape. The birds were 
singing their hymns in the woods ; the flowers 
were blooming on the hillside ; the trees were 
whispering their morning anthem of praise ; and 
now and then might be heard the low murmur 
of the multitude, as the Teacher unfolded to them 
the truths he had learned of God, and spoke of 
deeper things than they had ever before con- 
ceived. 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



119 



In no set or formal phrase did he speak to 
them, but as one would talk to his friends, out 
of the fulness of his heart ; and yet there was a 
majesty in his mien, and a dignity in his manner, 
which made them almost think that Elijah or 
one of the old prophets had come back to the 
chosen people. Though his instructions were 
weightier than any which ever before had been 
intrusted to human words, yet these words were 
simple and plain, as it is always fitting that the 
grandest thoughts should be uttered. He spoke 
from the occasion, and drew his illustrations from 
what was passing about him. When he would 
teach his hearers of the constant care of God, 
he pointed to some birds which were just flying 
above them. " Behold the fowls of the air ; for 
they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather 
into barns : yet your heavenly Father feedeth 
them. Are ye not much better than they?" 
And a similar lesson of trust he drew from the 
lilies at his feet. " Consider them, how they 
grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin : and 
yet I say unto you. that even Solomon, in all his 
glory, was not arrayed like one of these." 

It is indeed remarkable how little of abstract 
and barren discussion there is in the words of 
Christ. He spoke from beneath the shade of gar- 
dens and in vineyards, on the hillside and by 
the wayside ; and he scorned not to make a little 
fisher's boat on the Sea of Galilee his pulpit. 



120 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



Wherever there were human souls open to hear 
the gospel, there was the chosen time and place 
for him to declare it. And he spoke of that 
which was about them, that thereby he might 
lead their thoughts to the deepest truth. In 
almost every conversation, he calls the attention 
of his disciples to the phenomena of nature, 
giving them a spiritual interpretation. How he 
makes all things speak of God and the great 
truths of his religion ! How he gives to the 
fields and the trees and the flowers a voice to 
tell of the Creator and his love ! We should 
accustom ourselves thus to look at nature ; and 
we shall find our communion with it to be a 
fountain of religious thought and of fresher life. 
We should teach our children thus to search out 
its hidden meanings, that they may have the 
strength which comes from its pure influences. 
Why should we not be willing sometimes to 
leave our books, and let the earth preach to us 
of the Infinite ? The birds are still singing in 
our foliage, as in that which clothed the hills of 
Palestine ; and though they sow not, nor gather 
into barns, yet your heavenly Father feedeth 
them. The lilies to-day are blooming on yonder 
summits ; and though they neither toil nor spin, 
yet Solomon, in all his glory, is not arrayed like 
one of them. It is now with us the season of 
flowers. We would let them preach to us this 
morning, while we only listen and interpret their 
words. 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



121 



The first head of their sermon is of God's 
goodness. They declare that unbounded love 
which encloses every work of the Creator's hand. 
Why were there any such things as flowers ? 
Why has he arrayed them in so much beauty ? 
Surely, the world might have been made fitted 
for its uses, without all this lavish expenditure. 
The seed might mature without this display, 
and be just as nutritious and useful to man. 
The corn might grow and ripen, without feasting 
the eye on its fields of luxuriant green and 
tasselled spires. And there are many plants 
whose only use seems to be to bloom. Neither 
man nor beast can eat their fruit ; and yet they 
perpetuate their life, and with every spring start 
up and grow and blossom in fresh beauty. Why 
is all this ? It can only be God's benevolent pro- 
vision for his children. He has intended, not only 
that they should live, but that they should be 
happy. He has planted in us the love for the 
beautiful ; and he has fitted external nature, not 
only to supply our outward, material wants, but 
also to minister to our deeper yearnings. This 
shows us that we were never designed to be 
mere workers, drudges. The Almighty is more 
liberal to his children than to require that. We 
were made to enjoy, as well as to do. The 
flowers are nature's play ; the fruits are her work. 
We have also our play, as well as our work. 

And how lavish the Creator has been of his 



122 LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



adornments ! With what admirable and abun- 
dant garniture has he arrayed this world in 
which we live ! You cannot step your foot from 
your door, but it treads upon some little flower, 
which, if you examine, you will find to be a 
marvel of beauty, the like of which no human 
skill could produce. The dryest and dustiest 
roadside is clothed with its vesture of green, 
and variegated with fresh bloom. The wilder- 
ness itself blossoms like the rose. In the most 
busy street of the city, if you leave a little spot 
untrodden, the grass and flowers will spring up 
between the stones, and claim nature's right to 
the ground beneath. From the rocks piled up 
by some ancient deluge, or dropped from some 
primeval glacier as it swept along the floods, 
just below the summit of Mount Washington, 
peers forth the little flower, to make even those 
crags beautiful. And go into the province of 
the unseen, and unclose its mysteries with your 
glass, and beauty appears everywhere before 
you. Magnify an object a million times, and 
yet you can see no flaw in it : it is still beautiful 
and harmonious in every part. What could 
speak more clearly of God's superabundant kind- 
ness than these same flowers, which he has 
scattered so lavishly in our path ? 

And they discourse, again, of God's impartial 
care over all the things which he has made. He 
created the smallest lichen, which nestles in the 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



123 



cleft of the barren rock, as truly as he did the 
mountain range which divides a continent. And 
he cares for one as for the other. His love 
knows not the distinction of great and small, but 
is universal over all his works. He forgets not 
to distil its fragrance into the little May-flower, 
when its season for blooming comes, any more 
than he neglects to hold up the solar system by 
his mighty hand. He is never weary of bless- 
ing. And what is the lesson for us ? Does any 
one of you feel that he is so humble that God 
has forgotten him ? that his care is for the rich, 
the powerful, the great, and that no thought of 
the Infinite can be spared for him ? Let him go 
out by the wayside, and the little violet will 
whisper the lesson of modest faith, which he 
needs to learn. Yes : the love which sustains 
alike the flowers and the stars can be no re- 
specter of persons. 

The flowers also say to us a few words on 
cheerfulness. Nature is said to smile in the 
landscape, in the meadows of waving grass, and 
in the rustling verdure of the trees ; but in the 
flowers she laughs outright. We were made, 
too, to laugh sometimes, and to rejoice heartily 
in the good things given to us. I believe, if 
God had made man to be usually a sad and 
melancholy being, that he would have created no 
flowers to mock his grief with their gayety. The 
world without us was designed to be a type 



124 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



of the world within us. Whoever saw a black 
flower ? In nature we find sometimes the pen- 
sive and the sad, but never the despairing. 
Most of her days are not even pensive, but filled 
to the full with light and joy. All is hopeful 
and happy. The very clover is jubilant with joy. 
There seems a perfect ecstasy of delight exhaled 
from the blooming garden. And no man, how- 
ever complaining and fatigued, can come under 
these influences, without being made the happier 
for it. 

Finally, the flowers preach to us still the same 
sermon which Jesus interpreted from those lil- 
ies of Galilee to the wondering multitude. It is 
an exhortation to trust ever in God ; to trust in 
misfortune and trial, to trust in sickness and 
death. He cares for the grass of the field, 
which lasts but for its day ; and will he not care 
for his own children ? And yet there are times 
when it almost seems as if the flowers were for- 
gotten. What must the violet have thought, if 
it could think, when the harsh winds of last 
autumn blew upon it? The glory of its flower 
passed away, and left only a withered stalk. The 
leaves grew sere and yellow, and one by one 
dropped off, and were blown away by the October 
winds. Quickly the snows covered it ; and what 
was left of all its beauty and vigor ? Would it 
not, when all these apparently sad changes were 
befalling it, almost begin to doubt the care of 



LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



125 



God, and think that *the beneficent Father had 
deserted it? But God did watch over it, though 
the winds blew harshly, and the ground froze 
around its tender roots. The resurrection of the 
spring-time surely came ; and again the spirit of 
God has breathed upon it, and made it bloom 
forth in new beauty. 

And so to us, when the gathering frosts of age 
have whitened the hair, when the strength has 
decayed, and one by one the green leaves of 
youth have grown sere, shall then a doubt of 
God's goodness come up to darken our remain- 
ing days, and shall we fear to trust ourselves 
to him through the winter of death, which we 
see approaching ? To us, also, there will be a 
spring-time: we shall rise again, and bloom with 
a fairer life. If ever you feel desponding, and 
doubt of what is in store for you, wander into 
the gardens and over the hills, and in each joyous 
flower hear a preacher of immortality. 

Flowers should stand by the bedside of the 
sick, gently 'whispering to the sufferer of the ten- 
der love of a Father in heaven. They carry a 
lesson of peace and a benediction with them. 
And they are the fitting emblems with which to 
surround him who has passed through life's 
great change. Not with cypress-trees should we 
shade our graveyards : they teach too much of 
gloom and despair, rather than the trusting 
Christian faith, which gives the victory over 



126 LESSONS OF THE FLOWERS. 



death. Our cemeteries should be gardens, like 
that in which was the rock-hewn tomb from 
which the Saviour rose. We should place gar- 
lands upon our dead, the letters in which God 
has written his love upon his works, the emblems 
of our Christian faith in a blessed resurrection. 



XV. 



MONUMENTS. 



Gen. xxxv. 20 : "And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: 

THAT IS THE PILLAR OF RACHEL'S GRAVE UNTO THIS DAY." 



E would not have those we love forgotten ; 



* * we wish to keep their memory fresh and 
green ; we would have them remembered in the 
place where they once lived and acted ; and we 
would have their names cherished. It was with 
this desire that Jacob set up the pillar upon 
Kachel's grave; it is with this feeling that our' 
graveyard is whitened with so many monuments 
to the loved and lost. Are they not all inscribed, 
" In memory of " ? 

And yet I know not that these are the monu- 
ments which to us best keep them in memory. 
Are there not associations yet more tender with 
the chair in which they used to sit in the family 
circle, which now is empty ; with the books which 
they used to read, perchance the well-worn Bible ; 
or even with the playthings of the child too early 
lost ? And we, perhaps, may rear for them in 
the community monuments better than those of 
marble : some public benefit given in their name ; 
the common, the fountain, the library, the school, 
which, as men shall enjoy these, will call them to 




128 



MONUMENTS. 



mind; some gift to the church, which, in the Sun- 
day school, in the Sabbath worship, or in the com- 
memorative feast, will remind the worshippers 
of those who once worshipped in those same 
courts, but now have passed on to the higher 
service. A beautiful and touching custom it is, 
in one of our sisterhood of churches, thus to 
consecrate the Easter Sunday to the memory 
of the departed. The church is trimmed with 
flowers, sent by friends as memorials of those 
who have passed from their homes ; and the very 
air is made fragrant, not alone with thoughts 
of the life immortal, but of those dear ones who 
live it now. 

As we go back, after long absence, to the home 
of our childhood, we are pleased to find that 
we are not wholly forgotten there ; that some 
remain still to give us the friendly greeting. 
And especially does it rejoice us, if we find that 
some good work of ours still stands. We like 
to look at the tree we planted, which now shades 
the traveller in the hot summer ; at the ground 
we used to till, the institution we helped to estab- 
lish, the Sabbath school where we taught or 
learned, the old church where we used to wor- 
ship. We do not wish to feel that all those 
years of life have passed and left no record. So, 
I think, it will be with us, as we look back from 
another world upon this scene of our former 
labors and struggles and joys. 



MONUMENTS. 



129 



We would leave some memorial, some record, 
behind us. A desire for a good name after death 
is implanted in our nature. How many heroic 
acts have been inspired by the love of fame ! 
How many noble words have been uttered to 
the great audience of future ages ! And those 
who care not for fame as such, yet wish their 
memories to be fragrant with gratitude and 
affection, after their bodies rest beneath the sod. 
We do not expect to live in the page of history ; 
but who of us does not wish to be remembered 
in the world, after he has left it ? 

But how may we be remembered ? What 
enduring monument can we rear for ourselves ? 
Stone is not durable enough. Last Sabbath, I 
wandered alone in one of the oldest graveyards 
of the city, where, I suppose, the stones bear the 
names of men once great in the little village of 
Boston, but now passed for ever from the memory 
of men. Many of the inscriptions were almost 
illegible, only able perchance to keep the date 
safe from the tooth of time. Some one died in 
1675 : this was all that we might know. And 
of the most showy monuments, dedicated to the 
memory of some magnate of the early day, 
the stone itself was crumbling to pieces. Alas, 
the vanity of human greatness ! As empty and 
worthless, though on a still greater scale, was 
that structure by which the monarch wished 
to keep the memory of himself and of his race 

9 



130 



MONUMENTS. 



ever fresh to the admiring thoughts of men. 
And so he piled block upon block, and kept thou- 
sands of slaves at work, to build a worthy burial- 
place. And, when he died, he was laid within 
its massive chambers. It stands still, a stupen- 
dous monument to some man's folly, we know not 
whose. The builder's name, and that of his race, 
what he did and who he was, have all perished; 
and his very bones are dragged from their resting- 
place, to grace the gallery of one of our modern 
museums. And this is monumental fame ! A 
monument will never keep a man in remem- 
brance, unless he has done something which 
would make him remembered without it. 

Can we trust to wealth to keep us from being 
forgotten? The marble lasts longer than that. 
It requires but a few years to scatter the largest 
fortunes. They rarely continue in the same 
family for three successive generations. The 
children spend what the father by industry and 
energy earned, and the grandson of the million- 
naire often lies in the debtor's prison. 

Can we trust our memory to relationship ? 
The bond of kindred grows weak, as it grows 
long. And the nearest ties of blood, if they be 
nothing more, may be but chains of ice. Even 
in our own families, our memory will only be so 
far cherished as it deserves to be cherished. 
Children do not love their father, merely because 
he is their father ; nor do they so tenderly regard 



MONUMENTS. 



131 



his memory, merely because they are his heirs. 
They do not remember him with any more affec- 
tion because he leaves a rich inheritance; per- 
haps they may recall him even with less. I have 
never known a son even to mention with grati- 
tude the money he received from his father's 
estate. I have known many who have cherished 
their father's name with honor and reverence, 
because of his faithful discharge of parental 
duty, his wise instructions, his firm and gentle 
guidance into the path of virtue. Everywhere, 
in the community and in the family as well, there 
is one single price we must pay for remembrance. 
We must deserve it. We must earn it by worthy 
acts, by kindly sympathies, by unselfish devotion, 
by works of charity and of love. The sum of 
what we would say is this, that our memory 
must be kept alive, not by what others may do 
for us after we are dead, but by what we do for 
ourselves while we yet live. If a man, while 
he lives, does not build his own monument, no 
pomp of sculptured marble will save him from 
being forgotten. 

We desire to erect our own monuments. We 
inscribe our name on stone, because that lasts, 
and will carry the inscribed name through a 
century. There is material better yet for such 
a use. If we link our names with something 
which men use or enjoy or revere, that will carry 
them yet farther into the distant future. More 



132 



MONUMENTS. 



than two hundred years ago, a country minister 
gave his little property to establish what was 
then scarcely more than a high school for this 
infant Commonwealth. I know not that he was 
otherwise distinguished ; but that act of wise 
liberality has held him and will keep him long 
in grateful remembrance. He has joined his 
name indissolubly with that which men will not 
let die, because they need it. Royal governors, 
prime ministers even, have lived their brief life, 
and been forgotten ; but this name remains. 
Could he have built for himself a better monu- 
ment, that plain country minister, John Har- 
vard ? 

Let me mention an instance more recent. A 
benevolent lady, who was always doing good in 
some way, purchased a beautiful grove in the 
country village in which she lived, and gave it 
to the town, to be kept always open for public 
pleasure and enjoyment. It bears her name 
now ; and will it not last there longer even than 
if cut into the solid granite of those New Hamp- 
shire hills ? A town does not forget its bene- 
factors. What better monument can one rear 
to keep his memory fresh in that community in 
which he moves, than the school for substantial 
benefit called by his name, the library, the insti- 
tution for public instruction, the reading-room, 
the play-ground, the fountain, something which 
will be doing good and giving pleasure to other 



MONUMENTS. 



133 



generations ? I count these cheap monuments, 
all of them. Long after one has passed away, 
they will stand, nor will men suffer them to fall 
into decay. 

But there is one drawback here : there are 
comparatively few who are able to build such 
memorials for themselves. And yet we do not 
wish to be forgotten. My friends, I think that 
the best, the most lasting memorial is open to us 
all. He is a benefactor, and deserves and re- 
ceives men's gratitude, who ministers to their 
outward wants, who adds to their comfort, who 
relieves their pain. But there is a greater bene- 
fit than this which may be conferred upon them. 
A higher claim for gratitude and remembrance 
has he who leads a sinner from the error of his 
way, who confirms in virtue one who is wavering, 
who guides even a little child into the way of 
life, who turns the sorrowing to Him who can 
heal their grief. Who of us may not do some- 
thing of this work for his fellow-men? Who 
may not thus write his name on the living, yes, 
ever-living tables of human hearts ? And then, 
as we pass from earth, we leave tears and grate- 
ful memories behind us, and find our names not 
unknown in the goodly land whither we go. 
Yes, when we build such monuments, they are 
not for this world alone. We have written on 
human souls our inscription of faith and purity 
and trust ; and when they pass on, perchance 



134 



MONUMENTS. 



before us, they carry the record with them, safely 
out of these scenes which pass away, into the 
world eternal. Remembered in heaven ! What 
memory of earth can compare with that? One 
soul saved, turned away from its folly and its 
sin, brought to know the dear love of the Father 
above, led to the Saviour's feet ! Worth a 
whole life's work is this ; and he who has done 
it has reared a living memorial of himself which 
shall never perish. 

It is to such a benefactor that our grateful 
remembrance is due to-day. We remember him 
who has guided us to the heavenly Father, who 
has helped us in weakness and comforted us in 
sorrow, who has laid down his life for us. And 
he remembers us, if we give of his truth to the 
ignorant, of his strength to the weak, if we try 
to lead his erring brothers into the right path. 
As we do our little part of his work, we share 
his remembrance and enter into his joy. 



XVI. 



GREAT MEN. 

Judge? ii. 7: "And the people served the Lord all the 
days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders that 
outlived Joshua, who had seen all the great works 
of the Lord that he did for Israel.' ' 

ri^HE persons with whom we associate, though 
we may not desire or even know it, have 
a great deal to do with the formation of our 
characters. Insensibly, we become like them. It 
is so even when we resist and despise the influ- 
ence which is thus moulding us. On this ac- 
count, it is unsafe, no matter how strong our 
principles may be, to have much to do with the 
vicious and corrupt, except for the single pur- 
pose of making them better ; and even then 
we must be on our guard. " He that toucheth 
pitch shall be defiled therewith." How much 
stronger this influence must be from those whom 
we admire and honor! Almost unconsciously, we 
make them our models, and more or less bend 
our own characters into their likeness. What we 
respect and love we desire to make our own ; for 
who does not desire that others should respect 
and love him ? As one who intends to be an 
architect studies the admirable works of ancient 



136 



GREAT MEN. 



art, that more truly he may express the beautiful 
ideal in his own soul ; studies them, not that he 
may be a servile imitator, but that he may catch 
somewhat of their spirit : so in that nobler archi- 
tecture, character-building, consciously or uncon- 
sciously we have our models, our ideals, our 
types of manhood. 

Say what we please of its folly, we are all by 
nature hero-worshippers. This shows itself even 
in children. The boy's hero is his father. He 
is the ideal of manliness, the personification of 
virtue and strength. And the nearer the boy 
can be like his father, the more manly does he 
feel that he is growing. Even his vices and 
faults have a captivating air about them. Does 
the parent often give way to his temper, and fly 
into a passion ? The child must needs follow 
the example. Does the father swear or drink ? 
Though he thinks it may not be quite right, the 
boy must do the same, it is so very manly ; and 
he very probably betters the instruction. It 
would be ludicrous, if it were not so alarming, to 
see our little faults and peculiarities and failings 
thus represented to us in miniature. Whether 
we will accept it or not, the responsibility of our 
example rests upon us. We must do what we 
want our children to do, and be what we want 
them to be. 

Nations are pre-eminently hero-worshippers ; 
and that mysterious thing, national character, 



GREAT MEN. 



13T 



depends much on the character of the objects of 
popular veneration. The nation not only honors, 
but follows, its models. You can determine its 
type of character from the Valhalla of Its heroes, 
the calendar of its saints, and the roll of honor 
of its great men. I think, my friends, that es- 
pecially on this day, the birthday of one of the 
noblest of Americans, we ought to be devoutly 
thankful to Gocl, that he has made the fountain 
of our national life so pure, and our greatest men 
so worthy, not alone of honor, but of imitation. 
It sometimes seems as if nations had an individual 
life and character of their own, clearly marked 
at their beginning, and showing itself throughout 
their history. It may partly be owing to this, 
that every people venerates and imitates its fore- 
fathers. To take a single instance : ancient 
Ronie, if we may trust their traditions, was 
founded by a band of freebooters, and their king 
was a murderer of his twin brother. And, 
throughout their history, they were true to the 
traditions of their race ; freebooters still, when 
kingdoms were the prize for which they fought, 
and the wealth of empires the booty ; till that 
other prophecy was fulfilled, and the streets of 
Rome were red with Roman blood. Have we not 
reason to be grateful for the source from which 
we sprung ? Our early history, and the charac- 
ters of our fathers, are a precious inheritance. 
In some quarters, at this time, we read dispar- 



138 



GREAT MEN. 



aging words of the Puritans. I know not that 
they were favorites with certain classes in their 
own day. Their unbending morality was the 
jest of the libertines of that profligate and licen- 
tious age. Their love of liberty in church and 
state was the sum of abominations to the time- 
serving courtiers and fawning prelates of Charles 
the First. They won no honor from those whose 
praise would make the face of an honest man 
flush with shame. They were at least honored 
by the hatred of those whose blame was the 
highest praise. Nor is it a wonder, that the de- 
scendants of those gay cavaliers, who went down, 
rank after rank, under the onset of Cromwell's 
pikemen on the bloody field of Naseby, have no 
great love for the Puritan stock. Let them, and 
such as them, disparage it, if they please : per- 
haps they have reason. But blistered be the 
tongue of the son of New England who shall 
dare to say aught against the Puritans ! From 
nobler stock no nation ever sprung ; with holier 
purpose no state was ever founded. In the 
double interest of religion and liberty they estab- 
lished this Commonwealth ; and to her early con- 
secration may she prove true, to the end of 
time ! 

In the same manner, the great intellect of a 
nation, he whose name is a household word by 
every fireside, must have a strong formative in- 
fluence upon the nation's character. We can see 



GREAT MEN. 



139 



in the German life and intellect to-day the influ- 
ence of their great master-mind, and not always 
for good. How strong this influence is, after its 
kind ! Alas that great men are not always 
good men ! Too often the heroes of intellect are 
not full-formed, symmetrical persons. Like the 
image of Nebuchadnezzar's vision, the head is of 
fine gold, but the feet are of poor clay. Such 
men are warnings rather than models, often jus- 
tifying Pope's bitter line upon Lord Bacon, 
" wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." What 
is the kingly name in our literary calendar ? We 
can hardly find it on this side of the ocean ; but 
yet it is ours still. Is it not John Milton, the 
copatriot and the fellow-believer of our Pilgrim 
Fathers ; Milton, republican in politics, Protes- 
tant in theology, and Christian in life ? Could 
we select from the annals of literature a nobler 
name ? Could we choose a purer spirit to give 
the tone to a nation's literature ? 

But who is pre-eminently our national hero, 
the patron saint, if we may so speak, of America? 
In other lands, almost every week is marked by 
the festival of some saint. The twenty-second of 
February is the only saint's-day which we think 
we have time to keep. Our calendar bears one 
glorious, one canonized name, the name of Wash- 
ington. Before this generation has passed away, 
another name may be emblazoned there : we 
know not whose, but may it be as worthy ! 



140 



GREAT MEN. 



What an effect the character of their hero has 
had upon the character of the French people ! 
Every boy grows up after the Napoleonic model ; 
it is that type of greatness which dazzles his 
youthful imagination ; it is that style of success 
at which in miniature he aims. In greater or 
less degree, this must inevitably be the case. 
The character of the great hero stamps its image 
upon his nation. 

Can we be too thankful that God sent no 
Napoleon to be our providential leader, and that 
we have before us the example of such a com- 
plete and symmetrical manhood for our imita- 
tion ? In these troublous times, so similar to 
those in which he moved, we cannot go far 
astray, if we take him for our guide. That ex- 
ample we may safely follow ; and let this be the 
touchstone by which to try our course : Would 
Washington, the pure and disinterested patriot, 
act as I am acting in this great crisis of our 
country's fate ? 

We may be dazzled by the lustre of great ex- 
ploits and by the brilliancy of genius ; but the 
true test of greatness and heroism is this : can 
we safely imitate it ? He is not worthy of honor 
whom we cannot safely follow. It is not safe to 
admire him whom we would not take as our 
model ; for, against our will even, he is more or 
less our model whom we admire. The character 
of that great man is a worthy object of venera- 



GREAT MEN. 



141 



tion, which will bear being multiplied in minia- 
ture indefinitely, so that it would be well if 
there were a whole nation after the pattern of 
such heroes. What would be the condition of a 
country whose citizens were all Napoleons ? Two 
in a century are as many as the world can well 
bear. But would that we had to-day a nation of 
Washingtons ! Not a doubt or fear would then 
darken our future. We want no Napoleon ; but, 
if we had one Washington, it would be enough 
to save the nation. May God send us such a 
one in his own good time ! 

But there he stands, our national hero, the 
example of complete and rounded manhood ! 
Strange combination ! The great general, the 
incorruptible patriot, the humble Christian, all 
in one. He who could receive men's homage 
without being seduced by it, and wield power 
almost despotic without abusing it. Let his 
name stand at the head ; "a name," as Burke 
said of Lord Chatham, " illustrious and venerable 
to the nations ; a name which makes the name 
of this country respectable all over the world." 
Fortunate are we, then, in our national heroes, 
our Puritan ancestors, our Milton, and our Wash- 
ington ; good models all, to build a nation's life 
upon. A nation with such an origin and such 
heroes, if it be true to itself, is marked out for 
great things in God's providence, and for a 
noble destiny. 



142 



GREAT MEN. 



And yet, my friends, we cannot follow even 
these splendid examples implicitly and unreserv- 
edly. The best character is not faultless ; the 
highest human attainment is not free from im- 
perfection. We must judge them by the standard 
by which they judged themselves, and follow 
them only so far as they were true to that. Does 
not this hero-worship to which men are so prone ; 
this canonizing of saints ; this choosing for our- 
selves, from among the great and good, models 
of character: does it not declare to us, almost 
as a necessity of human nature, that there should 
be one faultless model? Do not these vague 
yearnings of humanity point to the one perfect 
example, and find their full and complete satis- 
faction in him ? We must turn from these lives, 
noble indeed, yet not always faultless, to Him 
whom our forefathers, our Milton, our great 
Washington, themselves humble disciples, tried 
at a distance to resemble. We must follow them 
only so far as they followed their Master and our 
Master, and imitate their spirit only as they par- 
took of his. Let us be grateful that these 
leaders of our race were themselves so faithful 
followers of the Lord, in meekness and humility 
devoting themselves to him and to God's work. 
And, while we honor them as they most justly 
deserve, let us lay hold of that help which they 
found so strong, and give ourselves to that Lord 
in whose name they won their triumphs and did 
their noble work. 



XVII. 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



Isa. li. 1: "Look unto the rock whence ye are hewn." 



HE twenty-second of December should be 



kept as a day of thanksgiving among us 
to all generations ; for on this cold and snowy 
December day, two hundred and forty-one years 
ago, were laid the foundations of our great, free, 
and Christian commonwealth ; and the precious 
leaven of liberty and faith was scattered here, 
which yet shall leaven a continent. Let us think 
of the Pilgrims to-day ; and our thoughts will 
be thoughts of gratitude, that they were who they 
were, that they were tvhat they were, and that 
God so wonderfully trained and educated them 
for their great work. 

They were Englishmen : let us be grateful for 
that. With all the occasional heart-burnings 
and rivalries, in spite of all the hard blows we 
have given and taken, we are yet proud of our 
lineage. We scold about our cousins across 
the water, and they about us ; perhaps we are 
too much alike to get along together without 
some jarring: and yet, under it all, there is a 
good hearty respect between the two nations. 




144 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



Mother and daughter are proud of each other, 
even when they talk loudest and strike hardest. 
And so we are thankful that those noble men, 
whom God led here, were of English race. The 
Spaniards, more than half a century before, had 
planted a colony on the shores of Florida ; the 
French had established their settlement on the 
river St. Lawrence ; the Dutch had already occu- 
pied, with their trading settlement, Manhattan, 
at the mouth of the Hudson River. But the 
sovereignty of this great continent was not for 
Frenchman nor Spaniard nor Hollander. God 
had reserved to a little band of Englishmen, 
Englishmen too of whom England was not 
worthy, Englishmen whom England's sovereign 
had driven into exile, the glory of becoming the 
founders of the great state that was to be. 

God's hand is visible, too, in the time when 
the Pilgrims were chosen for their work. It 
was a period of great national energy and enter- 
prise. Under her great queen, England had 
humbled the power of Spain, and had just taken 
for herself the front rank among the nations. 
It was a time of strong religious life. The 
Reformation in England, which had begun merely 
by the exchange of Pope Leo X. for Pope Henry 
VIII. , was now ripening its fruits. It was the 
time of the Covenanters in Scotland, of the 
Puritans and Independents in England. Reli- 
gion was emancipating herself on every side from 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



145 



the chains she had so long worn, and was quick- 
ened with a new life, It was an age, too, of 
intellectual awakening. Our fathers were Eng- 
lishmen of the time of Lord Bacon and Shak- 
speare and Milton. It was an age, also, when 
the new leaven of political liberty was strongly 
working among the people ; the spirit was already 
gathering strength which was soon to culminate 
in the revolution of 1642. They were English- 
men of the times of Hampden and Cromwell. 
The old English stock was never more healthy 
and full of life than just at the time when this 
vigorous scion was broken from it, and planted in 
this new soil. Yes : Englishmen of the English- 
men, and Protestants of the Protestants, were 
those sturdy Pilgrims. 

And what a noble training God gave to these 
chosen men ! They were tried by persecution 
at home. They were taught the worth of reli- 
gion by being obliged to make sacrifices for it ; 
and they knew the full value of religous freedom, 
because they had been deprived of it. Then 
God led them to Holland, exiles for conscience' 
sake. For eleven years, they lived at Leyden: 
but, though kindly received, they never felt fully 
at home in Holland. The manners and the 
language of the country never became natural 
to them ; they felt that they were Englishmen 
still: and yet those years of exile were an impor- 
tant part of their providential discipline. They 

10 



146 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



were spent industriously. Most of the men had 
been used at home to agricultural pursuits ; here 
they were obliged to support themselves by me- 
chanical trades. Those eleven years were spent 
religiously. By the tie of a common faith and 
of common sufferings , the English exiles were 
bound closely together. And when they deter- 
mined to emigrate to America, and sent their 
request for a charter, in true democratic spirit, 
signed by the greater part of the congregation, 
these were the words which accompanied it, 
written by their ministers, Robinson and Brew- 
ster: "We are well weaned," they say, "from 
the delicate milk of our mother country, and 
inured to the difficulties of a strange land. The 
people are industrious and frugal. We are knit 
together as a body, in a most sacred covenant 
of the Lord ; of the violation whereof we make 
great conscience, and by virtue whereof we hold 
ourselves straitly tied to all care of each other's 
good and of the whole. It is not with us as 
with men whom small things can discourage." 
Those eleven years had not been in vain. 

After long delay and the absolute refusal of 
any countenance from the king, they embarked 
under a charter from a private company. They 
sailed from Southampton in two ships ; but not 
yet were they thoroughly winnowed. The new 
seed must be of the finest of the wheat. The 
Speedwell was found to need repairs, and was 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



147 



pretended to be unseaworthy. They returned to 
Plymouth ; and all whose courage failed, all who 
were disaffected, were allowed to abandon the 
enterprise. They sailed again in a single ship, 
a hundred and one souls, on the sixth day of 
September, 1620. Good men and true they were ; 
men who had known what it was to labor, and 
to suffer too ; men who feared God, who loved 
liberty better than life, who still cherished affec- 
tion for their native land, though she had per- 
secuted and driven them away : it was " dear 
England" still. 

They were not commercial adventurers, at- 
tracted by the insane love of gain, which led so 
many in that age to follow Cortez and Pizzaro to 
the land of gold ; but they went with their wives 
and children to find a home where they could 
live in peace, and worship God after the dictates 
of their own consciences. They were all frugal 
and industrious, used to toil and expecting hard 
work in their new life ; not like that ship-load 
which, thirteen years before, had disembarked 
to form the first settlement in Virginia, which 
on the passenger list numbered fifty " gentle- 
men" and eight "laborers." They were all 
from that great middle class which forms the 
strength of any nation ; not like those who set- 
tled the fairer lands on the Chesapeake, who 
were partly the younger sons of titled families, 
the dissolute heirs of great names, and partly 



148 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



the convicts sent out from the prisons of the 
mother country to do the work as laborers of 
the new State. Yes : a noble band of men and 
women, worthy to found a nation, were the May- 
flower's company. All England had been sifted 
for those hundred souls. 

But whither were they bound ? Their charter 
said, to the " northern parts of Virginia." They 
had selected for themselves the mouth of the 
Hudson River ; but, through the incompetence or 
wilful treachery of their captain, the first land on 
the new continent which they reached was Cape 
Cod, and they anchored in the harbor of Prov- 
incetown. Can we not discern the hand of 
Providence, which turned them from their pur- 
pose, and fixed their settlement on the barren 
shore of Massachusetts ? Can we imagine what 
would have been the result, had they settled in 
the warm climate and on the fertile soil of Vir- 
ginia, or had they founded the great metropolis 
which now occupies Manhattan Island ? God 
had something harder, but better, in store for 
them. 

They were to land on a soil only moderately 
productive, that they and their children might 
learn the sturdy virtues of industry, frugality, 
and thrift. Its cold climate and its rugged coast 
would offer little temptation to the needy adven- 
turers, to the soldiers of fortune, to the ambi- 
tious and the profligate. The asylum of freedom 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



149 



would be safe from such intermeddling, till the 
good tree whose leaves were to be for the healing 
of the nations had struck so deep that it could 
not be uprooted. They were to land here by 
themselves, five hundred miles from that other 
civilization in Virginia and from the French 
colony at Port Royal. Here their institutions, 
safe from all intrusion and interference, could 
be established and have their appropriate work. 
In the beginning, their very poverty and disad- 
vantages were their strength and safety. Nor did 
they have to fear the hostilities of the Indians. 
The neighborhood of Plymouth, a few years be- 
fore, had been desolated by a pestilence ; so that 
hardly any of the original inhabitants survived. 
And there the first body of the Pilgrims landed, 
two hundred and forty-one years ago this day.* 
It is worth while to notice that it was on Mon- 
day ; they having delayed one day, in spite of 
their pressing need, because they would keep 
sacred, even in that emergency, the Sabbath. 

Imagine them landing on this coast on the 
twenty-second of December, with no civilized 
neighbors for hundreds of miles, houseless, 
poorly provisioned! Was not the prospect 
enough to make the heart of the bravest quail? 
And yet this was the brightest day of that long, 
dreary winter. In a few days, they erected such 
shelter as they could, in the intervals between 

* Preached Dec. 22, 1861. 



150 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



the sleet and the snow-storms ; and there they 
endured the privations and the dangers of the 
winter. What that winter was, we may know 
from the fact, that of the whole body of men, 
forty-one in number, who signed that compact for 
government in the harbor of Provincetown on 
November twenty-first, twenty-four died before 
the end of the next March ; and of the whole 
company, the one hundred and one men, women, 
and children who landed, half were laid to rest 
together on that little slope just above the sea; 
and the earth was smoothed over the new-made 
graves, that the Indians might not count their 
loss. Yet none of those seventeen men, with 
women and children who remained, faltered in 
their purpose. They sent back the Mayflower, 
and returned to their work. They had put their 
hands to the plough, and they would not turn 
back. They had God's work before them, and 
they felt that they must do it. 

Would you see the result of their unfaltering 
courage, their true-hearted Christian purpose ? 
Look about you. In that dreary winter was laid 
in weakness and in pain, and consecrated by 
the last sacrifice which men can make to the 
truth, the corner-stone of our great republic. 
That was God's purpose, which, unknowing, they 
had fulfilled. And indeed, if there is any one 
thing which strikes us in the history of the 
Pilgrims, it is the clear way in which we can 



THE PILGRDI FATHERS. 



151 



trace out the leadings of Providence in regard to 
them. There seems, as we look back upon it, 
an Almighty hand outstretched to direct their 
way. As the Israelites were led across the sea 
and through the wilderness to the " promised 
land," so they came to found this new England, 
the England that they loved, without its oppres- 
sions, without its persecutions ; a new England of 
civil and religious liberty. 

It was a hard school in which they were 
trained for their work, as men view it. They 
were tried by persecution, by exile, by poverty, 
by sacrifice, by loss ; but it was that they might 
be a " peculiar people," worthy to found a noble 
state. Has God ceased thus to deal with men? 
"What shall we say of sacrifice, trial, struggle ? 
Two hundred and fifty years have not changed 
their nature, and the same Providence rules still. 
They are still God's chosen discipline for nations 
as for individuals, by which they grow stronger 
and better. It is in the glowing furnace of trial 
now that the dross is separated from the fine 
gold. The education of the American people is 
not yet finished. We are instruments in the 
hands of Providence, as were our fathers ; led 
through struggle and difficulty to a higher pros- 
perity and a more noble national life. 

The tree of liberty from the beginning has 
been watered by tears, and nurtured by sacri- 
fices, and fertilized by the best blood of noble 



152 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 



hearts. It may demand still more of this gene- 
ration. Till now we have shed no tears, we have 
offered no sacrifices. Other men have labored, 
and we have entered into their labors. It may 
be different hereafter. The precious boon which 
cost our fathers so dear a price to win, is worth 
to us that price again to keep. And it is not for 
us alone. Those institutions, in their infancy 
baptized with blood, in their strength are com- 
mitted to this generation. The centuries past 
have given them to us, not for ourselves alone to 
be kept or lost, but to be held in trust for the 
centuries to come. Shall this generation go down 
a by-word and a reproach to all posterity, as that 
which has defrauded future ages of their rightful 
inheritance ? Whatever others may do, let not 
New England be unfaithful. Let us be true to 
our Pilgrim lineage ; and in the double name of 
Liberty and Religion, as of old, let us do our 
duty, and keep our trust. 



SELECTIONS. 



THE BIBLE. 



OOKIXG at the Bible merely as an historical 



fact ; as a power in the world, which has 
influenced the opinions, and directed the life, 
and quickened the heart, of millions ; which has 
been inspiration to the greatest minds of the 
race ; which has lifted up nations from bar- 
barism ; which has been the spring of that phi- 
lanthropy which is the boast of our modern 
civilization ; and which is now the professed 
guide of three hundred millions of our fellow- 
men : surely these facts, apart from any consid- 
eration of its divine origin, of its claims to be a 
revelation from God, demand for it a respectful 
attention and diligent study from any one who 
would be considered a well-informed and intelli- 
gent man, 



BIOGRAPHIES. — LIFE OF JESUS. 

¥ T is with peculiar interest that we read, after 
the lapse of years, any record of the private 
life of a great man. Biographies usually deal 
so much with the outward and striking acts, that 




154 



BIOGRAPHIES. 



tliey fail to give us, what we much more wish to 
know, the inner character of their subjects. 
They are often, too, one-sided representations, 
the work of admiring friends, who, in their anxiety 
to set forth virtues, omit to tell us of defects ; 
who are willing to allow no shadows to mingle 
with the light of their pictures. It is almost 
painful to read the so-called lives of religious 
men and women. They are represented to be 
so good, that we feel an almost involuntary dis- 
trust, as if such saintly characters were works 
of fiction. I remember, that, some years ago, a 
biography was published of a distinguished 
clergyman, as eminent for his talents as for his 
virtues. Thousands read it, and were made 
better by it. But it was mutilated in a most 
important respect. The besetting sin of his early 
life ; the sin which threw its fetters around his 
noble soul, and at one time threatened to sink 
him in dishonor and disgrace, but which, rising 
up in the might of a Christian purpose, he mas- 
tered : that is not mentioned. His struggles 
with this, his victory over it, which were really 
the marked points in his life, and which would be 
most useful to us as a warning and an example, 
are not recorded. 

And, if not thus mutilated, biographies are 
usually very defective in those minute reminis- 
cences, those circumstances, trifling in themselves 
indeed, but which, more than important acts, 



BIOGRAPHIES. 



155 



really unfold to us the character. TTe are 
usually informed only of the outside life of great 
men ; we see them on the busy stage of the 
world acting their part, and too often it is literally 
acting. Their attitude is thus too constrained 
and stiff for us to feel that we really know them. 
If we were only permitted to enter their homes, 
and hear their conversation with their families, as 
they were gathered around the fireside on a win- 
ter's evening, where all was free and natural, we 
should know them better. The unfeigned and 
easy talk of a single day would give us deeper 
insight into their characters than volumes of 
biography, as they are often written. Give us 
thus a leaf from their daily life, and the chasm 
of years narrows, and we feel almost as if we 
could discern their faces through the mist of 
centuries, and grasp their hands with the warm 
pressure of familiar friends. If we could have 
some autograph letter from Shakspeare to his 
wife, written in the unconciousness of affection, 
how much more vivid would be our view of him ! 
If there should come to light, among the treasures 
of buried Pompeii, a fragment of a journal kept 
by Augustus, merely recording the employments 
and secret thoughts of a single day, how much 
new interest would it add to his name, as we 
meet it in the dry records of the Roman his- 
torian ! That name would stand to us henceforth 
for a living man. 



156 



LIFE OF JESUS. 



It is worth while to notice, that we have more 
of this sort of information respecting the life of 
Jesus than of any other remarkable person who 
ever lived. He left, indeed, no writings of his 
own : we must depend on the accounts of others 
for all our knowledge. But the evangelists 
stood to him in a peculiar relation. They were 
not merely his hearers, but they were his personal 
followers. They attended him in his journeys, 
as he travelled on foot over Palestine ; they were 
witnesses, not of his miracles alone, but of his 
daily life ; they sat at the same table, and par- 
took of the same frugal meal ; they heard his dis- 
courses to the multitudes, and his explanations 
to them in private. In short, they were members 
of his family. And hence we have in their ac- 
counts, not the formal biography, but the vivid 
and familiar picture of all that which they had 
seen and heard. 



CHRIST THE IMAGE OF GOD. 

TT\0 we desire to know what God is ? Discern 
-"-^ " the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
Christ." In those bright days of the last week, 
I could not look at the sun, it was too dazzling 
for my weak vision ; but, when the evening came, 
I could look at the new moon, and see the 
glory of the sun reflected there. The moon does 



CHRIST THE IMAGE OF GOD. 157 



not shine of itself; it only reflects the light 
which the snn gives it : and in this reflection we 
can see the brightness, which, in its source, is too 
dazzling for our eyes to bear. As I looked, I 
seemed to find the interpretation of that passage 
of the Epistle to the Hebrews, where Christ is 
called " the brightness of the Father's glory : " 
the very word in the original expresses just this 
idea, " the reflected brightness of the Father's 
glory." Christ is to us " the image of God" in 
this sense, that he shows to us all of God which 
can be manifested in a finite being, and which a 
finite being can comprehend. He is, on the scale 
of humanity, what God is on the scale of infinity. 
And this is what he means, when he says, 
" He that hath seen me hath seen the Father." 
Would you know God, then ? Whatever quali- 
ties Christ possessed, ascribe them to God in 
infinite perfection. 

Let us follow out this idea more into particu- 
lars. Do you marvel at those works of power, 
which, from the beginning to the end, crowd the 
gospel narrative ? Was it not fitting, was it not 
to be expected, that he who came in his own per- 
son to manifest the image of God, should possess 
a power greater than that which belongs to com- 
mon men ? Without this power, the image of 
God would be incomplete. God is omnipotent. 
No finite being can possess this attribute in its 
infinity. Jesus expressly says, " Of mine own 



158 CHRIST THE IMAGE OF GOD. 

self I can do nothing." But in his marvellous 
works we see the image of omnipotence, projected 
on the scale of the finite. He healed the sick 
by his word ; he raised the dead ; he made the 
blind to see ; the winds and the waves obeyed 
him. He does not merely tell ns that God is all- 
powerful ; but, in his own wonderful power, he 
gives to our minds and to our hearts the express 
image of the divine omnipotence. God is om- 
niscient. Christ is not infinitely wise, for no 
finite being could be ; and he ' tells us that he 
was ignorant of a day and an hour which only 
the Father knew. But God's wisdom is reflected 
to us in the person of Christ. He knew the 
hearts of men. He spoke God's word as with 
authority. He declared the truth which he had 
received, not at second hand, but directly from 
the mind of his Father. 

But, when we turn to the moral attributes of 
God, his justice, holiness, and love, Christ is to 
us a yet clearer image of Him who is invisible. 
God's goodness and man's goodness differ only in 
degree. A man who forgives his neighbor for an 
injury with his whole heart, exercises, on his 
small scale, the same quality which God manifests 
when he forgives us our offences. "We are com- 
manded to be perfect, as our Father in heaven is 
perfect ; that is, within our narrow range to man- 
ifest the same moral features which the Father 
manifests on the scale of an infinite Being. All 



CHEIST THE DIAG-E OF GOD. 



159 



good men, as I said before, are partial images of 
God. But Christ is the perfect moral image 
of God. "Would we know what God is ? We 
look on the life and character of Christ, and from 
the image rise to the infinite Original. So 
Christ's mercy is to us a representation of God's 
mercy ; his love, of the Father's tender affection 
for all his children ; his life of beneficence, an 
image of that goodness which never ceases, and is 
over all his works. Do we sometimes despond, 
and wonder whether indeed a being, so holy and 
pure as God, can look with compassion on us in 
our weakness and error ? Christ was the sinless 
one ; and, with all his holiness, he came to seek 
and to save that which was lost. With sinless- 
ness, what divine charity for sin, what pity and 
love for the sinner, are combined in that spotless 
life ! We doubt no longer. As Christ was -merci- 
ful, so our Father in heaven is merciful. Do we 
tremblingly ask, Can God, perfectly just as he is, 
forgive the sinner ? Christ's life repeats the 
words of his parable, that, when the prodigal was 
yet a great way off, the Father had compassion on 
him, and went to meet him. Can God forgive ? 
We see Christ on the cross forgiving his mur- 
derers ; and that is to us an image of the infinite 
compassion and love of our Father. 

My friends, why is this perfect image of the 
Father placed before us ? That we may merely 
look upon it, and know what God is ? X ay : 



160 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 



Christ has lived in vain for us, if that be all. 
"We are to bring our own souls into that same 
image. We are to be "conformed to the image 
of his Son, that he might be the first-born among 
many brethren." Jesus is not, in God's pur- 
pose, the sole representative of his perfections ; 
but he unveiled the Infinite One, that, looking 
upon him, we too with him might, as St. Peter 
says, be " partakers of the divine nature." And 
so should " we all, with open face, beholding as 
in a glass the glory of the Lord, be changed into 
the same image from glory to glory," till in 
each of us Christ's own prayer shall be fulfilled : 
" The glory which thou gavest me, I have given 
them, that they may be one, even as we are one ; 
I in them, and thou in me." 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 

rTlHERE is nothing in Christ's nature which 
should separate him from humanity, and 
lift his character into a sphere so high that we 
are precluded from entering it. We will not 
here discuss the difficult question of his rank in 
the universe of God's creatures. If, as some 
believe, he was a man like ourselves, illumined 
and inspired by God for his special work, inspira- 
tion could not give him goodness. Virtue can- 
not be given ; it is no inspiration, but a product ; 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 



161 



ii is not something breathed in from without, 
but something achieved from within. Goodness 
is each man's own work ; and, with all reverence, 
we can say that even Omnipotence could not 
create a perfect character. The truths of reli- 
gion, with which God illuminated the mind of 
Jesus, led his soul to its perfection. These great 
truths, these lofty motives, which he has revealed, 
may hi us. thus inspired by God through. Christ, 
bear the same holy fruit. 

Or if. as some believe, he was a super-angelic 
being, existing with the Father before the founda- 
tion of the world, this does not take away our 
example. There is a community of spiritual 
life. The lowest man may have the same pow- 
ers, latent perhaps, yet the same, with the high- 
est angel. Does not each spirit resemble each 
other spirit in its capacities, and differ only in its 
development ? And so, if Jesus were an angelic 
being, his capacities, his spiritual faculties, may 
be the same with yours and mine, only by disci- 
pline developed above ours. He had grown up 
into the full stature of humanity. Even in this 
case, then, he could be an example for us ; just 
as the man can be an example to the child, and 
can show to it of how much their common human 
nature is capable. There is an immense differ- 
ence between the mind of a wise father, and the 
mind of the child who sits on his knee ; and 
yet the one can be, and is, an example to the 

11 



162 ' SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



other. Whatever Jesus was, we know that he 
was " tempted in all points as we are." He was 
sorely tried, and yet he conquered. From him 
we may learn to conquer. 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 

E refer to the New Testament as our su- 



J * preme authority in matters of faith and 
practice ; and yet how meagre are its teachings, 
in some respects ! We do not find every thing 
there, even of those things which concern our 
religious faith and practice. 

Far would I be from considering this silence 
of Scripture as an imperfection. It is to me one 
mark of its divinity ; itself one of its best les- 
sons. We may learn by what it does not say, 
as well as by its positive declarations. Says 
Boyle, a devout contemporary of Sir Isaac New- 
ton, " Scripture teaches us, like the sun-dial, not 
only by its light, but by its shadow." Let us 
trace where the shadow falls, and learn the les- 
son from the silence of Scripture. 

There are two very marked omissions which 
especially attract our notice. And it is remark- 
able, that Scripture is thus silent upon those 
very points, where, if one to-day were to found a 
church, he would express himself with the most 
fulness and precision. The New Testament 




SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



163 



gives us neither a ritual nor a creed. Wonder- 
ful omissions these, if we consider the history of 
the Church, and the demands of the human 
mind ! 

I. The New Testament gives us. I said, no 
ritual, no service of worship, no prescribed forms 
of devotion. The simple services of our Con- 
gregational usage, and the magnificent masses 
and chants of the Catholic Church, are alike the 
inventions of man. "Worship is enjoined in the 
New Testament ; but neither the one form nor 
the other is prescribed to us. How strange is 
this omission ! The whole tendency of the reli- 
gious life at our Saviour's time, was to forms. 
Heathenism was little beside form. And even 
Judaism vras weighed down with the minute 
details and burdensome provisions of a pompous 
ceremonial. It was among these surroundings 
that our Saviour lived. "Was his religion affected 
by them ? So far from it, that he does not even 
prescribe to his Church one single point as an 
essential to their Sabbath worship. He does not 
give them one single form of devotion, which it 
is binding upon Christians to use. When his 
disciples asked him to teach them to pray, in- 
deed, he gave them what we call the Lord's 
Prayer ; but that was only as a model after 
which they should frame their own prayers. He 
has left his Church wholly free to make its own 
ritual, as might best suit its wants. 



164 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



An omission like this, which is opposed to the 
religious habits and feelings of the times in 
which our faith had its origin, could not have 
been unintentional. I cannot think it was an 
accident, an oversight in the counsels of Him 
who sees the end from the beginning. He had 
a wise purpose in it. That purpose, as it seems 
to me, was that the Church might have power of 
adaptation and room for growth. A particular 
ritual may be well adapted to one nation, to one 
period of civilization, and be wholly unsuitable 
to the wants of another. This was the very 
element of decay in Judaism ; the divine signa- 
ture of " transient and to pass away " inscribed 
upon it. Those sacrifices and that ceremonial 
had been a powerful quickener of religious life 
and feeling in the days of the Judges and the 
Kings, in the days of Samuel and of David. 
They were outgrown when our Saviour came ; a 
burden, not a help ; deadening, not inspiring, the 
religious life of the nation. No form could have 
universal adaptation. Eead over the ceremonies 
and services of the law of Moses, as you find 
them in the book of Leviticus ; and, admirable 
as they were for those times, would they suit our 
wants now, or express our religious feeling ? A 
religion which has, as an inseparable element, a 
rigid and unbending ritual, has within itself the 
elements of its own destruction. In this omis- 
sion of forms, then, which at first sight would 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



165 



seem so strange to us, we have only another 
mark of the divine origin of our Christian faith. 
In it vre see the signature of universality, the 
credentials of a perpetual youth, the title-deeds 
of eternity. 

Since the New Testament is silent in this 
respect, it has left us free to use any form of 
public or private devotion which we choose, 
and which we find useful. TTe have no right to 
impose one. which we have found useful for 
ourselves, upon others : they have no right to 
impose theirs upon us. I have listened to the 
pompous ceremonies of the Catholic Church. 
Many, no doubt, find in the gorgeous vestments, 
and burning candles, and chanted Te Deurns and 
Glorias, that which quickens true devotion in 
their hearts : let such use this ritual. And I 
have sat also in the unpainted Quaker meeting- 
house ; and we waited in silence till the Spirit 
moved some brother to speak what was in his 
heart. There, too, was true devotion. Each 
has its place, if it ministers to the religious 
growth of the individual soul ; and in this is its 
sufficient sanction and authority. 

II. The silence of Scripture with regard to 
creeds is much more remarkable than its omis- 
sion of any prescribed ritual. If any one of us 
were a missionary in a heathen land, and wished 
to give an idea of what Christianity was, he 
would probably make a brief statement of doc- 



166 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



trines ; or, in other words, what we call a creed. 
Yery different from that is the Scripture meth- 
od. It would have been easy for Jesus, when 
the multitude were gathered about him on the 
mountain, to have given them a brief statement 
of articles of faith ; but he does not do it. In- 
stead of that, he declares what he regarded of 
much higher importance : " Blessed are the poor 
in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." 
" Blessed are they that mourn ; for they shall be 
comforted." Read over that whole Sermon on 
the Mount, and I think you will find not one 
passage which has ever been a proof-text for a 
church doctrine. From all the words of Jesus, 
I believe you would find it very difficult to con- 
struct what is called by the technical name, a 
creed. 

And I think we may say, without any fear of 
contradiction, that you will not find any thing in 
the whole New Testament which bears resem- 
blance to modern sectarian systems of doctrine. 
The texts upon which these are based are scat- 
tered here and there over the whole Bible. 
Many of them can be used only in the way of 
inference ; and entire doctrines are built up, in 
this way, on the inferences from detached texts. 
Look over the whole mass of dogmatic theology. 
What are the disputes about ? It is rarely that 
you find in them the great fundamental princi- 
ples of Christianity. Creeds are the division 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



167 



lines of Christendom. The doctrines which are 
systematized in them occupy precisely that ground 
about which Scripture is more or less silent. 
The silence of Scripture is the reason of the need 
of a creed. If these doctrines were plainly re- 
vealed, all would be agreed upon them. And this 
is the reason that they are rarely stated in Scrip- 
ture language. The words cannot be found in 
the Bible to express clearly and definitely the 
idea which is wanted. 

It cannot be doubted, that Jesus knew more 
about the doctrines of his own religion than any 
who have in these latter days speculated about 
them. He did not choose to gratify our curiosity 
in this regard. Can we not see the reason why 
he did not do it ? Was it not that he feared the 
very evil which has come to pass, that men would 
magnify belief above life ? Had he laid down 
definite articles of belief, would not men have 
been satisfied with a bare assent to these ? He 
has not done this ; and yet we see that men have 
not escaped this great danger, even with human 
creeds. 

There are two inferences which follow plainly 
from this silence of Scripture with regard to 
any system of theological doctrines. The first 
is, that, however useful these may be in their 
place, it cannot be essential that we should have 
them clearly defined. The Scripture has not 
done this for us, as is shown by the very exist- 



168 



SILENCE OF SCRIPTURE. 



ence of human creeds, which would be super- 
fluous had the Scripture done this. All that is 
essential for us to know is laid down with 
clearness in the New Testament. There are 
some points which are either obscurely referred 
to, or altogether omitted there. We may con- 
sider this as proof positive that these are not of 
saving importance. In the words of Milton: 
" Ever that which is most necessary to be known 
is most easy ; and that which is most difficult, so 
far expounds itself ever as to tell us how little 
it imports our saving knowledge. It casts an 
aspersion of dishonor, both upon the mercy, 
truth, and wisdom of God. We count it no 
gentleness or fair dealing, in a man of power 
among us, to require strict and punctual obedi- 
ence, and yet give out all his commands ambigu- 
ous and obscure. We should think he had a 
plot upon us; certainly, such commands were 
no commands, but snares." 

The second inference is, that we have no right 
to impose our creed upon other people. We 
cannot be sure that it has the divine sanction. 
It is our own work, not that of God's Spirit. It 
is good in its own place; it is well for us to 
exercise our minds on such questions ; it is well 
for us to arrive at the truth by all the means in 
our power. But we must remember that our re- 
sults are binding on ourselves alone. We have 
no right to call that essential which God has not 



THE WORLD. 



169 



made essential. It is not our prerogative to 
deal out God's mercy, or to stand doorkeepers 
at the gate of heaven. It becomes us to be 
modest on those religious questions upon which 
Paul and John did not presume to dogmatize. 
Where Scripture is silent, it is well for us to be 
humble. " There is one lawgiver who is able to 
save and to destroy. Who art thou that judgest 
another ? " 



THE WORLD DOES NOT HAVE JUSTICE 
DONE IT. 

HHHE world does not have justice done it. It 
is often blindly, but sincerely, giving its 
rewards and praises to those who, it thinks, de- 
serve them. Sometimes it chooses error ; not 
because it is error, but because it looks like the 
truth. Sometimes it takes a vice under its pat- 
ronage ; but somehow it looks to it like a virtue. 
Convince it of its mistake, and how quickly the 
judgment is reversed ! The world honors those 
whom God honors, whenever it can find them 
out. 

Do you say the world is full of bad men, and 
therefore cannot honor goodness ? But even bad 
men themselves honor what is good. Does a 
vicious man respect in his heart the sharer of his 
vices, as much as he does those who will have 



170 



THE TRINITY. 



nothing to do with them ? He may say he does ; 
but that does not make it to be so. Does he 
want his own children to join in them ? Never. 
Poes the intemperate man honor his companion, 
whom he has laughed out of his scruples, and 
made to be like himself? He despises him all 
the more, because he has yielded. Those who 
have thrown off the restraints of religion, do 
they honor and trust such as themselves ? They 
are indeed sharp-sighted for shams and pretences, 
severe in their judgment of hypocrites ; but in 
their hearts they respect any one whom they 
think to be truly religious. Would they leave 
their estates, their children, in the hands of their 
companions in irreligion ? For such a trust they 
would seek one who was bound by the restraints 
which they themselves had abjured. 



THE TRINITY. 

THE doctrine of the Trinity, as it stands in 
the creeds, we consider neither rational 
nor scriptural. But we believe in the Father, 
and in the Son, and in the Holy Spirit. We join 
in the ascription of praise, so many centuries 
old, which our choir chants : " Glory be to the 
Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, as 
it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall 
be ! " We may, as Unitarians, add, " and these 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 



171 



three are one." God the Father, the only living 
and true God ; God the Father, who was in 
Christ, reconciling the world unto himself ; God 
the Father, whose Holy Spirit is now dealing 
with human hearts, and inspiring them to all 
that is good and holy : this is the very essence of 
Unitarianism. These are not three : they are one. 
It is the One God our Father who does all. And 
yet the one God may be considered, in his deal- 
ings with men, under these three aspects, the 
Father, the Redeemer, the Sanctifier or Inspirer. 
This is very different from the Trinity of human 
creeds ; but yet it is the germ of truth, as I 
believe, from which that sprung. 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

T3UT this leads us at once to the question, how 
long is this punishment or discipline to 
last ? I answer, till its end be effected, and the 
soul truly repents and ceases to sin and to love 
sin. I cannot believe that a merciful Father will 
stop short of that result. If the soul shall sin 
for endless ages, the divine retribution will fol- 
low close upon its track also for endless ages. 
If such a thing were possible, if such wickedness 
were conceivable, that it could for ever hold out 
against the Father's discipline, then the punish- 
ment must also be eternal. But I do not believe 



172 



INDEPENDENCE. 



that such wickedness is possible. It cannot be 
that one finite soul shall for ever resist the infinite 
wisdom and infinite love. It cannot be that one 
soul shall be eternally lost ; for would not that 
dim the happiness of heaven, the bliss of saints 
and angels, nay, to speak it reverently, the 
beatitude of the Infinite Father, to know that one 
child of his was still alien from his all-embracing 
affection ? Yes ; it must be so. Be man ever so 
deeply dyed with sin, the divine mercy will 
punish, will love him, till it shall be cast out ; 
for "it is not the will of your Father that one 
of these little ones shall perish." 



INDEPENDENCE TO BE WITH THE MINORITY. 

rFIHERE is more need than ever to insist on 
the duty of manly independence. It is a 
noble quality, when unmixed with arrogance and 
bitterness. Blessed is he who can live true to 
himself in these days, when public opinion 
weighs down with such crushing force. But this 
independence must not be a wilful dislike of all 
which others like, and for the reason that they 
like ; no vanity of appearing odd ; no one-sided 
eccentricity, though eccentricity even is better 
than servility. It is not querulous and fault- 
finding, but just and magnanimous. It is not a 



INDEPENDENCE. 



173 



disrespect for others' judgment, but a proper 
respect for our own. Even in its worst phase, 
we can respect it more than the opposite ex- 
treme. There is something manly in him who 
despises custom, even unnecessarily ; but what 
respect can we have for the frivolous votary of 
fashion, the weak echo of other men's opinions, 
the weathercock wavering with the breath of 
others' mouths? 

Independence in thought and act, manly in- 
dependence, has filled the hearts of all those 
great men who have led on the world to pro- 
gress and achievement. We need not feel 
ashamed to stand in the minority ; for there is 
good company there. Thus have all great dis- 
coverers and reformers stood, the leaders of the 
race in its onward march. And thus now 
stands civilization: the hordes of barbarism num- 
ber more heads and hands than civilized nations. 
So with government : there are ten despotisms to 
one even nominal republic. And so with reli- 
gions. Christianity, even nominal Christianity 
with its millions, is in the minority. Of Chris- 
tendom, Protestants are less numerous than 
Catholics ; and of Protestants, our own denomi- 
nation is among the smallest. "We could only, 
then, be truly on the side of the majority, by 
sacrificing our civilization, our liberty, our reli- 
gion. Strange as it may seem, the majority have 
never been in the right since the world began, 



174 CREEDS AND COVENANTS. 



T) RE SENT disaster and loss are no token that 
our effort or our cause is not God's. His 
own revelation twice has hung by a single thread. 
Twice his great plans for man have been sus- 
pended on a child's life, and that tender life was 
sought. From the ark of bulrushes on the Nile, 
and from the manger at Bethlehem, dawned the 
light for the world. He took care of his own. 
And as surely as truth and right are his, so sure 
may we be that they will never die. It does not 
prove that we have not the truth, because we are 
few. Our holy religion has held all its disciples 
in an upper room before now, and perhaps has 
never been mightier than in that day of its weak- 
ness. 



CREEDS AND COVENANTS. 

IN the book of the Acts, the missionary ordained 
by the apostles themselves, in answer to the 
inquiry what one must do to be admitted into 
the Church by baptism, is recorded to have only 
said, " If thou believest with all thy heart, thou 
mayest ; " and the new disciple was baptized on 
the simple declaration, "I believe that Jesus 
Christ is the Son of God." 

Our Pilgrim Fathers, true to their principles 
of religious liberty, true to the parting charge of 



CREEDS AND COVENANTS. 



175 



their pastor when they embarked from Hoi 
land, that they should watch for the new light 
which was yet to break from God's word, asso- 
ciated themselves into churches, not upon the 
basis of creeds, but of covenants. I have a 
copy of the covenant of the first church in Ply- 
mouth, the church of the " Mayflower ; " and it 
is such that we could heartily adopt it as our 
own. Our church, which was gathered here one 
hundred and sixteen years ago, was organized 
on the same basis. We still wish to hold to 
their ancient freedom of opinion ; we would 
cast not a single barrier in the way of the earnest 
inquirer. It is true, we unite upon profession 
of faith in Christ. This is, of course, essential. 
Ours is a religious society, whose basis is not 
the Koran or the Zendavesta, but the Gospel 
of Christ. It is a Christian society. Further 
than that, we would not define our opinions. 
We have no purpose of fencing ourselves in ; 
imprisoning our souls within the damp, ancient 
walls of creeds, whence we can only look out 
on the sunshine of God's truth fearfully, lest 
we may see too much from the grated windows. 
We bind ourselves to no dogma ; we put no 
shackles upon freedom of thought. We are 
Christians, it is true ; but we may be Unitarians, 
Calvinists, Methodists, or Universalists, in our 
minor doctrines, and yet, under all these varying 
forms of belief, have the " unity of the spirit in the 



176 



MULTIPLICITY OF SECTS. 



bonds of peace." Though differing widely in 
our intellectual belief, as I know we do, we yet 
are willing together, as a band of brothers, to 
pursue what is of more value than any dogma, 
and exists in the earnest spirit under every creed, 
the Christian life. God be thanked that men 
can no more fence into their enclosures the Chris- 
tian spirit, than they can the free air and the 
sunshine of heaven ! 



MULTIPLICITY OF SECTS IN CHRISTENDOM. 

EXTEND this same principle, and it does much 
to account for the multiplicity of sects in 
Christendom. We find the secret of their origin 
in no accident, in no strange obliquity of the hu- 
man mind nor perversity of the human will, but 
in this same diversity of endowment. Men have 
joined themselves together, so far as it is a free 
act of theirs, according to their natural affinities 
and sympathies. As, in the old philosophy, it 
was said that men were born Aristotelians or 
Platonists, so now, almost as truly, they are 
born Unitarians, Methodists, Calvinists, or Cath- 
olics. We may even, without drawing too much 
on our fancy, trace out their characteristics in 
the representative men of the apostolic company. 
Let Peter stand for the patron saint of the Cath- 



MULTIPLICITY OF SECTS. 177 

olic Church, as, indeed, they themselves claim 
him : Peter, who always had a hankering after 
forms and ceremonies, who could hardly cut him- 
self adrift from the ritual of the old dispensation, 
and craved the old Judaism still ; Peter, who 
always spoke first, and loved to rule, and yet 
a brave, noble, sincere man, who did a great 
work for Christ's cause. And then John, with 
his loving spirit, with his deep emotions, and his 
mystic piety : who in our day should represent 
him better than the Methodists, and their kindred 
sects of different names ? Then Paul, with his 
scholarly attainments, his sharp reasoning, his 
acute metaphysics ; Paul, the last of the apos- 
tles, let him represent a type of Christian life, 
which did not become prevalent till many years 
after Christ had left the earth ; Paul, from 
whose writings so many controversies have 
arisen, " the beloved brother," of whose Epistles 
a fellow-apostle wrote that in them are " some 
things hard to be understood, which they that 
are unlearned and unstable wrest unto their own 
destruction : " let Paul stand in many respects 
as the patron saint of Calvinism. And Thomas: 
has he not his disciples, those who wish all things 
proved, and desire not to receive on authority ; 
who with critics' eye must examine the prints 
of the nails, even in the hands of the risen Mas- 
ter, before they can believe ? They have their 
place still in the Church ; as their prototype had, 

12 



178 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



who was in the beginning owned, not merely as a 
Christian, but even as a chosen apostle. 

And whom shall we take as our saint? Not 
one, but all. We will try to unite the loving 
trust, the hatred of superstition, the clear intel- 
lectual perception of truth, and the deep piety 
of these several leaders, all together in one. 
And we will choose as our model, not any dis- 
ciple, however noble he may be, but the Master, 
the Head of the whole Church, in whom all these 
scattered folds are joined in harmony ; with our 
doors, like his, so widely open, that even the 
doubting Thomas may not be driven away from 
his brethren ; a Church so broad, that each of the 
great tendencies of the human mind may find 
a place within it, and all may work lovingly to- 
gether for the coming of Christ's kingdom among 
men. 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 

IS not diversity of belief an inherent necessity 
of human nature ? The experience of the 
world seems to indicate it. Experiments for the 
promotion of unity of opinion have been tried on 
a gigantic scale. The arm of power would have 
forced men to it ; the subtle logic of philosophers 
would have reasoned men into it : but both have 
failed. For centuries, the Church bent its whole 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



179 



energies, and exerted its mighty influence, upon 
this single point. To bring it about, it built its 
Inquisitions, and organized its secret band of 
Dominicans, and kindled its fires, and strung 
its racks. The Inquisitions echoed with the 
groans of the agonized ; the fires burned, and the 
scaffolds were weary with victims ; but men still 
thought. The human mind still moved on groan- 
ingly, though pontiff and civil power strove to 
hold it down. They could as soon stop the 
earth in its revolution, as stop men from think- 
ing. 

And this we must not ascribe to any eccen- 
tricity or perversity of the human intellect. You 
can only crush mankind into conformity, either 
by curbing their freedom of thought, or making 
them so ignorant that they care not to think. I 
believe that the Church was not much troubled 
with heresy, when the darkness of the Middle 
Ages settled over her. The only way to make 
men think alike is to make them not think at 
all. This prescription is simple enough, but it 
will not answer the purpose of this generation. 
TTe must think in this century. The world is too 
old now to fetter its intellect. It no longer, with 
the ancient father, is willing to " believe, because 
it is impossible." From these facts, we can draw 
no other conclusion, than that the Christian 
Church has not now, and never has had, and 
never can have, unity of belief. 



180 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



We believe that Jesus is the Christ, that he 
was specially commissioned by God to reveal to 
men his will. This is our confession of faith, no 
more, no less. On our church-books our names 
stand subscribed only to that first Christian 
creed, " I believe in Jesus Christ." This alone 
is our foundation ; it is all we feel that we have 
a right to demand, as a condition of church-mem- 
bership. Upon this groundwork, and with that 
message as an authoritative guide, we allow and 
exhort each individual, as he sees reason for so 
doing, to build for himself. Acting on this prin- 
ciple, we have practically, in our church, various 
shades of theological opinion. We join in our 
weekly worship, we sit at the table of our com- 
mon Master, with representatives of many of the 
great sects of Christendom. We have with us 
the believer in the five points of the Genevan 
Calvin, united in Christian fellowship with the 
disciple of the Spanish Servetus. The common 
foundation is of more importance to us than 
the differing structures which we have reared 
upon it. 

And it seems to me, that this principle, which 
unites us as a church, is the only one which can 
furnish a comprehensive bond of union for the 
Church Universal, and give it, amid all its in- 
evitable diversity of form, still the " unity of the 
Spirit in the bond of peace." Upon this foun- 
dation, " Jesus the Christ," can the whole of 



CHRISTIAN UNION. 



181 



Christendom fraternally meet. As we widen 
this groundwork in one direction or the other, 
and make other things fundamental, do we ex- 
clude fellow-Christians from the family on earth, 
whom the Master may admit into the family in 
heaven. 

My brethren, it is my feeling, and I trust it is 
yours also, that this pulpit is erected, not so much 
for the theology of the intellect, as for the religion 
of the heart ; that its most important work is, 
not to make Unitarians of you or your children, 
but to make Christians of you and them. God 
grant that it may accomplish this best work, and 
be faithful to its great calling ! 

And, my friends, you are to-day offering your 
church to God in the services of Dedication. It is 
well that you have consecrated so much of your 
substance to this object, and have shown your re- 
spect for religion by giving her so beautiful a 
habitation. But what is all this beauty, this 
sky-pointing spire, and this deep-toned organ, un- 
less it be a sign that you have also given your 
hearts to God, and your lives to his service ? 
" Know ye not that ye are the temple of 
God? " All this beauty is not half so acceptable 
an offering to the Holiest, as a single heart 
which bows in contrition, and opens itself to the 
breath of the Spirit. May we give both offerings ! 
May we make this best dedication, on this day 
of good purposes and resolves ! Our only right 



182 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 



to exist as a Christian society is based on our 
partaking of the spirit of Christ, and doing some- 
thing to make ourselves and others grow up into 
his likeness. We prove that we are indeed a 
branch of the vine, not by our beautiful leaves, 
but by our holy fruits of righteousness and 
piety. 



E are here on the common ground of Chris- 



' " tendom. There are not many places 
where all the sects are willing to stand together. 
How discordant are the articles of belief to 
which they severally require assent ! How vari- 
ous are the theories by which they represent the 
philosophy of religion ! And how different are 
the ceremonies by which they body forth in forms, 
to the senses of the worshippers, divine truth ; 
from the pompous ritual of the Roman Church, 
as celebrated beneath the dim arches of venerable 
cathedral piles, to the silent heart-worship of 
those who gather in the plain Quaker meeting- 
house ! The Roman and the Greek Churches 
even have their periodical brawl, disputing which 
shall possess the reputed sepulchre of Jesus. 
But his Prayer is the common possession of 
Christendom. You hear it under the dome of St. 
Peter's, chanted by solemn priests, the Pater- 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 




THE LORD'S PRAYER, 



183 



Noster of that gorgeous ceremonial. You hear 
it in the imposing forms of the Greek Church. 
You hear it, too. in these simple structures, which 
we Protestants, by whatever name we may be 
called, rear to the worship of God. The words 
may differ, for many are the dialects of the wor- 
shippers ; but the heart-language is the same, all 
over the world. Together they lift up the prayer, 
that God's name may be hallowed, and his king- 
dom come, and his will be done on earth as it is 
in heaven ; for it is the same Infinite Father 
whom they are all addressing. And together go 
up the blending petitions of many souls for their 
daily bread, for forgiveness of sins, for escape 
from temptation, for deliverance from evil ; for 
are not all of these universal wants ? And 
together from their million voices comes the an- 
them of praise : " For thine is the kingdom, and 
the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen." 
Truly, this stands to us as a prophecy of that 
glorious coming time, when Christendom shall at 
length be one fold, and there shall be the millen- 
nium of union without uniformity. May God 
hasten its full coming ! 

And is it not true now that there is among 
Christians much more of harmony in their pray- 
ers than in their ceremonies, their doctrines, or 
their philosophy ? Does not this fact point in the 
direction whither we must look for our future 
bonds of union ? 



184 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 



But to return to the Lord's Prayer. How per- 
fect is its adaptation to all the conditions of life ! 
I have been much struck lately, in the course 
of my reading, with some illustrations of this 
adaptation to the most different circumstances. 
Figure to yourselves a little party of eighteen 
men, enlisted in the double service of humanity 
and science, far up among the polar ice. There 
they were, farther north than any civilized man 
had ever gone before, alone. Hundreds of miles 
of frozen sea intervened between them and help 
from any person. There they had passed the 
dreary Arctic winter, with its months of constant 
darkness, with its fearful cold, with its perils 
from disease and exposure ; the more dreadful, 
because before untried. It was the time when 
we begin to expect the sheltered places to grow 
green in the spring sunshine ; but with them it 
was the season of intensest cold, the thermometer 
averaging for days between forty and fifty degrees 
below zero. The little party had been weakened 
by sickness and the rigor of the climate ; they had 
just before barely escaped with their lives in pur- 
suing the object of the expedition ; and they 
had returned with their minds almost unbalanced 
by the frightful cold to which they had been ex- 
posed. There was scarcely a well man among 
them ; there were months of cold still before 
them ; there was fearful disease threatening them. 
It was a time when the most courageous would 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 



185 



weigh the chances of life and death. And in 
this time of anxiety, of threatening danger, one 
of the eighteen died of that disease from which 
all were suffering. The foreshadowings of the 
same fate were on most of them. Think of a 
funeral there ! Let the simple narrative speak 
for itself. " We placed him the next clay in his 
coffin, and, forming a rude but heart-full proces- 
sion, bore him over the broken ice and up the 
steep side of the ice-foot ; then, passing along 
the snow level and climbing the slope of the ob- 
servatory, we deposited his corpse upon the pedes- 
tals which had served to support our transit 
instrument and theodolite. We read the service 
for the burial of the dead, sprinkling over him 
snow for dust, and repeated the Lord's Prayer; 
and then, icing up again the opening in the walls 
we had made to admit the coffin, left him in his 
narrow house." 

Turn to another scene, of widely different 
character. A body of men, as wise, as virtuous, 
as patriotic, as the world has ever seen, are as- 
sembled in council. They are the representatives 
of three millions, met to act for the holy cause 
of liberty. It is the birth-throes of a great 
nation. Says one who acted there : " A feeling 
of deep solemnity pervaded the whole assembly. 
They felt that their deliberations should be 
opened with prayer ; and, however different their 
religious opinions, they joined in the morning 



186 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 



service of the Episcopal Church." Many great 
men there bowed the knee. Washington and a 
host of patriot worthies, whose names are now 
immortalized in the record of American Liberty, 
knelt and asked the blessing of God upon their 
down-trodden country. And in that service they 
repeated together the Lord's Prayer. It was the 
first prayer in Congress. 

We might easily multiply instances of this 
sort ; but these will suffice to illustrate our point. 
And why does it have this universal fitness ? It 
is because it contains in itself the germs of all 
prayer. It is not a prayer, but prayer in brief, 
suited to all the circumstances of life. The 
child may express his devotions in these words ; 
for they contain much of his childish aspiration 
and desire. The old man of fourscore may use 
it too ; for he finds, that, in his age, human desires 
and needs are still the same. We join in it at 
the wedding and the baptism, because it is appro- 
priate there. We utter it in the church, as the 
best expression of our united devotions ; and I 
wish that here, after the good old fashion of that 
Church from which we sprung, your voices, as 
well as your spirits, would join in repeating its 
solemn words. And would it not diffuse a better 
influence through your families, if, before enter- 
ing on the duties of the day, parents and children 
should reverently offer together the Master's 
prayer, and thus begin the day with serious 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



187 



thought of their duty to God and to each other ? 
Would we not do better to use oftener its sacred 
words, so appropriate to all our varying feelings 
and changing circumstances ? Use them, did I 
say ? Rather pray them ; for is there not danger 
that we may rest satisfied with the familiar sound, 
though the spirit be absent ? Let us beware how 
we thus desecrate this best of all prayers, these 
holiest of all words. 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

HAVE thought, that, in this sacred presence, 
I could not direct your thoughts more appro- 
priately than to the subject which these emblems 
of Christ's death suggest to us. 

It may be that your dearest earthly friend, 
your mother or your child, is gone ; and are 
there not some seasons when the remembrance of 
the loved and the lost comes up with peculiar 
vividness ? Perhaps, as the anniversary of their 
death conies round, your feelings become sad- 
dened, and that anniversary is not to you as other 
days. The memories of the dead cluster around 
it. If it be a child that you have lost, how each 
article of clothing, each toy of his, however tri- 
fling, renews your grief, and calls up the remem- 
brance of what will be yours no more here ! You 
cannot avoid these ever-recurring reminders ; you 



188 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



would not, if you could. And if that mother, 
on the day before her death, had called you to 
her bedside, and asked you, out of gratitude 
for what she had done for you, and the love you 
bore her, to place a vacant chair beside your 
thanksgiving table in remembrance of her, would 
you not scrupulously perform this, though the 
request had been only intimated ; and would you 
not remember her better through this outward 
emblem, which connected the occasion with her ? 
And suppose, further, that she had asked her 
children to meet on the anniversary of her 
death, if it were possible, and partake together of 
a simple meal, to keep alive their memory of her, 
and their regard for each other. Would there 
be any thing unreasonable in this request ; and 
would any child feel that he paid proper respect 
to his mother's memory, if he did not observe 
it ? It might very likely be the case, that some 
of the children, though they loved her, were 
conscious, that, in their course of life, they had 
not wholly followed her wishes, and had gone 
astray from her instructions : but would they on 
that account think themselves bound to neglect 
her request ; and, if they happened to be present 
when the others were about to celebrate the me- 
morial supper, would they refuse to join in it? 
Nay : would they not feel that the memory of her 
love, and the recollection of her instructions, 
would give them new strength to resist the temp- 



THE LOED'S SUPPER. 



189 



tations which had hitherto led them away from 
what they knew to be right ? 

Let us turn to another scene. In an upper 
chamber at Jerusalem, a little company met 
together to celebrate the passover. The ap- 
pointed messenger of God had well-nigh finished 
the great work which had been given him to do. 
He had declared the truth which the Father had 
revealed to him ; he had spoken as man never 
spake ; and he had done mighty works of love 
and healing, in attestation that his mission was 
from God. It was the last day of his ministry, 
a ministry which had called him to much trial 
and disappointment ; and he knew, that, on the 
morrow, it was to be sealed by his death upon 
the cross. There were with him those faithful 
ones who had followed him in his journeyings ; 
who had drank in the word of life which he 
taught ; and who, though at times wayward and 
dull of sight, were yet his truest disciples, 
his dearest friends. They were not perfect 
Christians. None of them had yet fully compre- 
hended the divine spirit of their Lord. There 
was Judas, the traitor. There was the passionate 
and zealous Peter, who, before the cock crew, was 
to deny his Master. There was Thomas, the 
doubter. They were weak and sinful, like other 
men ; yet into their hands was Jesus to commit 
his religion, after it had been baptized with his 
blood. He knew their past weakness ; he knew 



190 THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

what would be their future failures ; but lie 
loved tliem still, and he wished to fortify their 
feebleness by the thought of his love. At that 
solemn hour, he wished to leave to them a me- 
morial of himself; to strengthen them, through 
the trials of their future life, by the grateful re- 
membrance of what he had been to them, and of 
the instructions which he had given them. He 
broke the bread to symbolize his body, which on 
the morrow would be broken for them upon the 
cross ; he poured the wine, as an emblem of that 
precious blood he would shed for the salvation of 
men ; and he asked them to eat and drink in 
remembrance of him. Could they neglect this 
touching request ? Though Peter denied his 
Master, and all that little band forsook him in 
the hour of his trial and fled, yet they could not 
refuse ; and through life they celebrated this rite, 
and gained strength therefrom. 

And so it has come down through the centu- 
ries. Saints and martyrs have partaken of it, 
and gained strength for virtue and victory. Sin- 
ners, likewise, have remembered Christ, and 
struggled more faithfully against temptation. 
The world's greatest minds have sat humbly at 
Christ's table, and have learned of him ; and the 
humblest too, the great company of the world's 
unknown, have there, in the remembrance of 
Christ, the Sufferer and the Saviour, found com- 
fort and strength and peace. 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



191 



It is the holy season with us this morning. 
The table of the Master is again spread with the 
bread and the wine, as in that upper chamber. 
Again his voice of invitation is heard from the 
sacred book, "This do in remembrance of me/' 
He is not now present to our sight ; but where 
t^Vo or three are gathered together in his name, 
he is in the midst of them. He would exclude 
from his table none who believe in him ; who 
strive, however feebly, to obey him, and to be his 
disciples. He asks all, whatever be their failures 
and their sins, who yet are earnestly striving 
after the Christian life. He invites those who, 
like the impulsive Peter, sin many times, and who 
even may have denied him in the thickly beset- 
ting temptations of the world, but who still re- 
pent,' and are striving for the right. He invites 
those like John, who love him with a more ten- 
der affection, and who, even after resting on 
his bosom with holy thoughts at the Supper, may 
yet sometimes, in their weakness, desert him in 
the hour of trial. He asks those like Thomas, 
whose intellect may weave confusing doubts, but 
whose heart is true, that they may look on his 
cross, and be at peace. And he even asks Judas, 
the slave to wealth, if perchance, by the touching 
remembrance, he may have his thoughts drawn 
heavenward. 



192 



JOINING THE CHURCH. 



JOINING THE CHURCH. 

I HAVE a deep conviction of the importance 
of the Church to the religious welfare both 
of individuals and of the society. Believing 
thus, I have felt bound to urge its claims upon 
you. This is the way in which it appears to 
me. It is a command of Christ, that all who 
believe in him should not keep that belief to 
themselves, but confess it before men. Bad 
men all about us, without hesitation and with a 
bold front, are confessing the Devil: it is fair 
and right that Jesus should require that the 
influence of those who are trying to obey him, 
should be plainly and unmistakably on his side. 
He does require it. 

Now, I feel that every one of our congrega- 
tion does believe in Christ; nearly every one, 
with more or less earnestness, is trying in some 
sort to live, or at least means some time to live, 
a Christian life. Here is the institution ready 
at our hands, which Christ, who knew the 
hearts of men, established as the best school 
for perfecting his disciples. Here is the Chris- 
tian confession, unsullied by any human addi- 
tion, the very same which apostles preached, 
and martyrs bore witness to ; just the thing to 
give the wavering will its steady aim ; just the 
thing to make constant and definite our Christian 



JOINING THE CHURCH. 



193 



striving, and support it with the strong force of 
Christian sympathy ; just the sacrifice to make, 
and the hard service to render, which will add 
manliness and robustness to our Christian pur- 
pose. And so I should gladly see, not one- 
third of the adult members of the congregation, 
which is about the present proportion, but every 
one, a member of the Church. I should be glad 
to see it, because, from my own experience, I 
know it would be a help to you in being Chris- 
tians. I should be glad to see it ; for I know 
that Christ wants one of you no less than 
another, that he is content with not one less 
than you all gathered into his earthly fold. I 
know not one of you who is too bad to join the 
Church, and profit by it. I do not believe that 
one of you is so good as not to need it ; indeed^ 
the only possible ground of exclusion would be 
just this, if perchance any one is too good. If 
any of you are perfect already, you do not need 
it. I can see that such might keep aloof. But, 
if any are conscious of weakness and imper- 
fection, if any pursue with stumbling steps the 
Christian path, if any attain not the good they 
desire, if you are not as good as you think you 
ought to be, come ! It is just the place for 
such; it is a help in Christian living which you 
cannot spare. 

And so with the Lord's Supper. "We remem- 
ber Jesus, I hope, sometimes at home ; some- 

13 



194 



JOINING THE CHURCH. 



times in the ordinary services of the Sabbath. 
We cannot think too much of him : the very 
thinking of one so pure and holy must make us 
better. We could not do a wrong act so easily, 
if he had just been in our thoughts. But who 
will say that our thoughts of him would not be 
more frequent and definite, if there were some 
stated time and some outward form to call him 
to our remembrance? Jesus wished to be held 
in grateful memory by his disciples ; and so, just 
before he was crucified, he requested them oc- 
casionally to partake of a meal together in re- 
membrance of him. As if your mother, on her 
death-bed, had called her children to her side, 
and asked them, out of regard to her memory, 
to meet together once a year on the anniversary 
of her death, and, partaking of a simple meal 
together, to think of her. Who could deny this 
last wish? To me, with this same simple and 
tender urgency, comes the last request of Him 
who died that we might live. " Do this in re- 
membrance of me." I cannot refuse. 



I HAVE thus expressed my views of the mis- 
sion of the Church ; and I wish that I could 
impress upon your minds my earnest conviction 
of its importance. I have not been pleading 
for mere forms. Your names, as far as you are 



JOINING THE CHURCH. 



195 



concerned, might be as well on any other sheet 
of paper as in our church-books, if no serious 
purpose accompanied the signature. I am not 
asking you to enroll yourselves as members, 
that it may look well in the table of statistics, 
and gratify my pride in the comparison with 
other churches. I should be shocked, if I knew 
that any joined to please me, without this reli- 
gious purpose. I should feel sorry to have the 
Church filled up, if it must be, with dead, irre- 
ligious members. But I want what is implied 
in this act. I want you to be Christian men 
and women ; and I want you to join the Church 
in avowal of that choice, as a help to your 
Christian life, that thereby you may advance 
Christ's kingdom, and may obey his command. 

I wish that each one who how hears me 
would weigh the matter seriously in his own 
mind, and come to a definite decision upon it ; 
and on the next Sabbath we would gladly wel- 
come each one of this parish to the table of our 
Lord. In the name of the Church, and in the 
name of the great Head of the Church, I do 
now cordially invite you. It is an object in 
which we are all interested, that we seek to 
accomplish by meeting here. It is the Saviour, 
who died for you as well as for me, whom we 
remember. It is his last request to us all, 
which we would now fulfil. We meet together 
on the Sabbath and in our business : and I wish 



196 THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 



that we all, if we have never done it before, 
might begin together in earnest to lead the 
Christian life ; and, as we go on in our course, 
that twenty or thirty years hence, if God shall 
grant me so long a ministry among you, we 
might look back on a life which should need not 
many tears of remorse, and feel that those years 
of our sojourn together had been devoted to 
what we know to be life's true object. And I 
am looking further, to the time when we shall 
meet no longer here ; when one by one God 
shall have called us ; and then I wish that we 
may all, not a single one missing, meet in hea- 
ven. Blessed will this day be to us, if such 
shall be its issue. 



THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 

OU have united together as a society, and 



J- invited me to settle among you as a Chris- 
tian preacher. In the fulfilment of this sacred 
office will be my principal means of influence and 
usefulness among you. It becomes, then, an 
important question to both of us, What is this 
institution of Christian preaching; this chosen 
instrument which God has used to accomplish 
his great ends in the world ; and what is its 
appropriate function ? It is, in brief, the appli- 




THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 



197 



cation of Christian principles to the wants and 
circumstances of man. Let us trace out the 
consequences which are implied in this definition, 
and we shall find that in it are involved the 
province, the object, the subjects, of Christian 
preaching. 

1. What, then, is its province ? "What are the 
instruments which it may legitimately use ? It 
has to do with Christian principles, and its sphere 
is religion and morality. It is, then, restricted to 
a certain class of relations, or rather to relations 
only as they point in this particular direction. 
It has nothing to do with literature as such, 
politics as such, business as such. The pulpit 
is no place to teach the principles of rhetoric or 
grammar, and apply them to books : that belongs 
to our schools and colleges. It has no right to 
discuss the principles of political economy, as 
applying to the measures which are at issue 
between our national parties : that belongs to the 
floor of Congress. It is not to deal with the 
price-current, and the sales of stock : these 
belong to the counting-room and the broker's 
board. But it has to deal with Christian prin- 
ciples, and with these alone ; yet wherever these 
can appropriately be applied, whether in litera- 
ture, science, politics, or our daily business, there 
is the appropriate sphere of the pulpit. It can 
never, then, come into competition with the ly- 
ceum, the lecture-room, the political caucus ; for 



198 THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 



it looks at subjects from a different point of view. 
The subjects they treat of may be the same ; but, 
when the pulpit considers them, it must be strict- 
ly in a moral and religious light. If the preacher 
leaves this, his vocation, he is unfaithful to 
Christ, in whose name he speaks, and as whose 
ambassador he claims respect. 

2. What should be the object of the Christian 
preacher ? We have defined it to be the applica- 
tion of Christian principles. It must, then, be not 
theoretical, but practical. He does not preach, 
if he be worthy of his place, to increase his own 
reputation or for his personal edification, but 
for his people's good. He might write an essay 
on the same subject upon which he preaches ; 
but this should be an entirely different thing from 
his sermon. The essay would be the theory ; the 
sermon, the application. Here lies the distinction 
between the preacher and the theologian. The 
one enters into the philosophy of the matter, 
searches out principles ; and, when he has found 
these, his work is done. But the preacher, 
though he may state principles, does not do his 
whole duty, if he stops here : they must be fol- 
lowed by what, in the language of sermons a 
century ago, was styled " the improvement." The 
one speaks to clear up doubt, and satisfy the intel- 
lect : the other preaches to make men better. The 
true sermon, then, is not designed, in its ultimate 
purpose, to appeal to the sense of beauty, to satis- 



THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 



199 



fy the understanding, to gratify the imagination ; 
but it is intended to reach the heart : it may be 
through these various avenues ; yet, if it merely 
gratify and please, it has been in vain. This ob- 
ject does not exclude appeals to the intellect ; for, 
if a man would do his duty thoroughly, he must 
do it intelligently : but there must be a purpose 
underlying this intellectual appeal, a purpose to 
affect the life. The preacher does not labor to 
make men theologians, any more than this is 
requisite to making them complete Christians. 
The preacher's duty, then, is twofold ; to explain 
and to enforce Christianity. 

This ample field, it seems to me, has sometimes 
been restricted in two opposite ways, but equally 
injurious to the efficiency of the pulpit. On the 
one side, the preacher is expected to deal only 
with particular classes of duties. There are topics 
which are thought to be entirely inappropriate to 
discussion here, especially such as have excited 
deeply the public mind. We do not deny that 
these matters have been often discussed in a way 
not adapted to lead men to Christian views of 
them. But is the fact that they have been wrongly 
treated, any argument for not treating them at 
all ? Yet it is surely a warning to the preacher 
that he himself should avoid this error, and 
discuss them in a Christian spirit, if occasion 
should make it to be his duty to consider them. 
It is said truly that party politics have no place 



200 THE SPHERE OF THE PULPIT. 

here ; but Christianity has a place here, and its 
principles may apply to our duties as citizens as 
well as business men. 

This freedom of selection is sometimes restrict- 
ed on the side of radicalism, as it is called. Just 
the very points of Christian duty which some 
would think ought not to be mentioned at all, 
are placed in the most prominent light, and dwelt 
upon continually, to the neglect of others which 
are more important. Tbey may be very well in 
their place, but they do not cover the whole field 
of Christianity. Jesus preached liberty to the cap- 
tive, but he preached many other duties besides 
this. This restriction is more narrow than the 
other, and, I believe, would be more injurious in 
its practical effect; for it leads the minister to 
spend his time upon what is really of secondary 
importance. It may be well to instance what I 
mean. 

There is the evil of slavery. Few here at the 
North doubt that it is contrary to the spirit of our 
religion ; and, consequently, so far as we help to 
sustain it, we sin against God. Now, what are 
the consequences of this belief? Am I to turn 
this pulpit into an antislavery rostrum ? By no 
means. Believing slavery to be a sin, there are 
other sins which we commit, which I believe to 
be worse, and these therefore demand more our 
consideration. More sin is committed in this 
congregation in neglecting the duty of prayer, 



THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 



201 



for instance, than in our participation in the sin 
of slavery. 

There is the sin of intemperance, which seems 
to me of much greater practical religious impor- 
tance to us here than Southern slavery ; inas- 
much as it lies nearer home, and may come over 
our own threshold, and drag away our children 
beneath its bondage. I believe that it is the duty 
of the pulpit to warn against this sin, as against 
all others, and to labor for its suppression ; yet 
should I on this account preach temperance ser- 
mons on every Sabbath ? Certainly not ; for, 
doing thus, I should neglect the enforcement of 
more important duties. It may seem to me to be 
my duty to preach upon both of these subjects ; 
but, if I do, I shall endeavor to preach Christianity, 
and have nothing to do with national or local 
politics. And, if a minister applies Christian 
truth in a Christian spirit even to these evils, 
there can be little danger that he will not be 
patiently and candidly listened to, and that what 
he says will not have influence, so far as it 
deserves it. 



THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 

1%/TY work is to help you to be more Christian. 
-L*-*- So far as I try to do this, and only so far, 
am I fulfilling the duties of my sacred office. 
By this standard must you judge me; by this 



202 THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 



must I judge myself; by this must I be judged 
at the bar of God. In this single scale must I 
weigh every sermon, every plan, every under- 
taking, in my relations with you. Does this 
word, does this institution, does this work, tend, 
directly or indirectly, to make my people better 
Christians ? If not, as a minister of Christ, I 
have no business with it. And so, in my ser- 
mons, I have not endeavored to write what I 
thought would please you, but what I thought 
would do you good. I count that no sermon 
which does not bear in some way on this point. 
You may have had sometimes little interest in 
the subject of which I felt it my duty to speak. 
Perhaps, then, that sermon was not meant for 
you. Another may have found in it the very 
word which suited his need. Your sermon may 
come by and by, and the other may not find 
any good in it for him. That sermon may 
have come out of a personal experience, which 
I knew would come home to some beside myself; 
it may have been written to solve a difficulty of 
faith or practice ; it may have been suggested 
by a conversation during the week, of which you 
knew nothing. There have been few written 
wholly at random. In the nature of things, it 
is impossible that the preacher should on every 
occasion adapt his word to all his congregation 
alike : if he does, he will be very apt to do little 
good to any of them. 



THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 203 

To turn to another part of the minister's "work, 
though I would not call it work ; for to me it is 
rather a luxury than a burdensome duty. In 
these ten years, I have made nearly four thou- 
sand calls, an average of more than four hundred 
a year. Perhaps some may think that I do not 
come to see them often enough. I count that 
my deprivation, more than theirs. If I do not 
come, it is not from lack of will, but because the 
time cannot be spared from the studies, the work, 
the numberless other cares, of the minister's 
life. Whenever you feel that it is a great while 
since you have seen your minister, come up to 
see him. That is but one call for you to make : 
it is one hundred and twenty for him to go and 
visit you. I go to see you, as I said, because I 
enjoy it. And, though I have not felt it my duty 
on every occasion to obtrude distinctively reli- 
gious conversation upon those whom I visit, most 
gladly do I converse on such subjects, when you 
yourselves introduce them. I have not wished 
to make my intercourse with you stiff and for- 
mal, but as that of one friend with another. 
And so, when you are sick, I like to come and 
see you. I would not come as the solemn priest, 
with the power of binding or loosing, but as a 
Christian brother, who sympathizes in your dis- 
tress. And if you desire me to pray with you, 
not only alone but together it is, that we, as Chris- 
tian men, ask the Father to bless this experience 



204 



THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 



to his child ; and, if you do not express this 
desire, I do not feel bound to force it upon you, 
but perhaps pray for you without your know- 
ing it. 4 

There is another matter which has occupied 
much my thoughts as a point of duty, and yet 
upon which I have not been able to satisfy myself 
as regards practical measures. I mean our rela- 
tion as a Christian church to that too large part 
of the community in which we live, which is 
not connected with any religious organization. 
There are so many reasons beside hostility or 
even indifference to religion which hinder the 
poor especially from attending public worship, 
that it becomes practically a very difficult ques- 
tion to deal with. And then there is indifference ; 
there is vice ; there are the young, who soon are 
to be active members of society, growing up 
under influences most corrupting and demoraliz- 
ing. Can we as citizens, not to say Christians, 
leave them to themselves ? I have felt that I 
was not merely your minister, but also that I was 
commissioned to do what good I could outside 
of the immediate circle of my parish ; and per- 
haps sometimes I may have neglected you a 
little in your prosperity, in the pressure of what 
I felt at the time to be the more urgent duty to 
those wandering as sheep without a shepherd. 
If I have done so at any time, I ask your indul- 
gence, for the sake of Him " who came to seek 
and to save that which is lost." 



THE DUTY OF THE MINISTER. 205 

I am satisfied that we, as a Christian church, 
have not fully done our duty to this great class 
of the unchurched. We have not yet reached 
them as we might with Christian influences. 
And yet we have a mission from the great Head 
of the Church to these very wanderers from the 
fold. A church of Christ ought to be no selfish 
institution, a corporation for the benefit merely 
of its own stockholders. True to the spirit of 
Christ, it cannot be a dark lantern, but a beacon 
diffusing light and joy all around. The candle 
hid under the bushel goes out for lack of air ; it 
must be set upon the candlestick. And yet, 
feeling this deeply as I do, I have not been able 
to satisfy myself as to the mode in which we can 
best grapple with this vital question. So far I 
have acted, from day to day, as the present emer- 
gency seemed to require. The time may come 
when some organized effort on the part of this 
church may be needful. If this shall be the case, 
I shall turn to you with confidence, that willing 
hands and open purses will not be lacking, as 
they never have been lacking, among you when 
the occasion has required. 



206 



PASTOR AND PEOPLE. 



THE RELATION BETWEEN PASTOR AND 
PEOPLE. 

ri^HE minister ought to feel that his lot has 
fallen among the very best people in the 
world; and the people, in their turn, should think 
the same of their minister. There may be on 
both sides, to the eyes of others, faults enough ; 
but the parties concerned ought to have that 
amiable blindness, which ever seeks to overlook 
and apologize. They are each other's own ; and 
almost a personal feeling comes up, when their 
merits are in question. Whatever her child be to 
other people, however ill-mannered and disagree- 
able, to the mother there is nothing else in the 
world like it. It is her child, and she will hear 
nothing of faults in connection with it. Who 
would think it safe to discuss a child's character 
before its parent ? And so, in the relation in 
which we stand to each other, we should be more 
anxious to excuse faults than to find them. Like 
the marriage relation, if it would accomplish 
truly its end, it will not do to have it a mere 
business arrangement: there must be some 
warmth of feeling in it. 



PASTOR AND PEOPLE. 



207 



TT seems to me that something like the same 
-■- feeling should exist between minister and 
people now, which Paul's letter shows to have 
existed between that ancient pastor and his 
flock on the shore of the iEgean; the same 
love, the same interest in each other, the same 
hearty expression of mutual regard. The work 
is hard, only when this fitting feeling is absent. 
It is not hard, my friends, to do our duty, if we 
only love. The mother does not complain, 
though she have to watch all night with her 
sick child. And, in proportion as there is this 
affectionate sympathy, will the pastor's work be 
successful. No one needs so many friends as 
he. By the tenure of his office, he is the inti- 
mate friend of each member of his parish, the 
sharer of their sorrows, and the rejoicer in 
their joys ; the recipient, too, of many a con- 
fession of which the world knows nothing. He is 
as a son to the aged, and a brother to the young. 
His house is their house ; the parsonage is the 
parish home : and there they may be sure that 
they will be ever welcome. And, as the years 
go on, the ties strengthen. He has been with 
them in sorrow and in joy. He has touched 
the brows of their infant children with the 
waters of baptism. He has given the religious 
consecration to the love of their sons and 



208 



PASTOR AND PEOPLE. 



daughters, and asked the blessing upon their 
new homes. And it is he who ministers the 
consolations of the gospel to the living, and 
offers the farewell prayer over the dead. 

Take it all in all, what one among the various 
relations in which we serve each other, affords 
more room for all tender and affectionate feel- 
ings than this in which you and I, my friends, 
stand together? It has not been hard for me 
to feel as I ought towards you. I have had 
somewhat of the apostle's experience ; that 
which prompted his warm, hearty letter to the 
Philippians. I may use his own words : " Now 
I have all and abound; I am full, having re- 
ceived of Epaphroditus the things which were 
sent from you." 

During the nearly six years of my life among 
you, there have been almost constant kindnesses 
to me and mine from you all, for which I have to 
thank you individually and as a society; and 
I believe I have yet to experience the first un- 
kindness, either in word or deed, from any of 
my parish. You know not how much strength 
has come to your pastor from the kind remem- 
brances and encouraging words, which you, per- 
haps, have long ago forgotten. I thank you, 
my friends, for your valuable gifts; and more 
than for their own worth do I value them as a 
sign of your good will; as a token that I am 
doing, in some humble measure, the great work 
of my calling. 



PASTOR AND PEOPLE. 



209 



We must never, in our interchanges of cour- 
tesy and good will, forget that which alone 
gives to our connection any worth, any mean- 
ing. We must never lose sight of the great 
end of the Christian ministry, the solemn work 
which takes hold on eternity. You have been 
very kind to me. I must beware, lest, in my 
regard for you personally, I fail to speak out 
my plain and honest convictions ; lest I study 
to say rather what will please than what will 
do good. Because you are kind friends, I 
ought only the more earnestly to speak, to ad- 
monish, to exhort. Your kindness is a new call 
to faithfulness. You must remember that the 
office of the pulpit makes it to deal with great 
themes, with matters of deepest personal con- 
cern, with what may often be disagreeable truth, 
but yet truth which needs to be spoken. If, 
led by my sense of duty, I speak what seems 
to you uncalled for, give me credit at least for 
honest intention and Christian purpose. I am 
serving under my Master's orders, and he must 
be obeyed. Each of us, you for hearing and I 
for preaching, must give his own account to 
God. May we all be found faithful at the reck- 
oning ! 



14 



210 



THE INWARD WITNESS OF GOD. 



THE INWARD WITNESS OF GOD. 
OU have seen some stately temple, its 



J- great walls ostentatiously supported by 
the buttresses which rise against them. Are 
these showy buttresses and spires its main sup- 
port? Nay, deep within are founded the mas- 
sive stones, which hold up the great edifice. 
The buttresses might all fall, and the building 
would stand without them. They add to its 
symmetry, and in some measure to its strength ; 
but they are subordinate, and the main depend- 
ence is on that which is out of sight, within. 
So, as we build the holy temple for religion in 
our souls, the outward evidences may add to its 
beauty and its grace ; but on the inner witness 
does it stand or fall. 

A great deal is said about proving the exist- 
ence of God. We hear of the a priori argu- 
ment, and then of the argument from design. 
Let us define what is the exact worth of these. 
They are good gymnastics for the human mind. 
It is well to confirm what we already believe 
by evidence from another quarter. It is a 
pleasing study, when we have already found 
our Father, to trace out the letters of that holy 
name written over all his works. It illustrates 
the wisdom and goodness of God, as we see 
the wonderful adaptations of nature. Moreover, 




THE INWARD WITNESS OF GOD. 



211 



I have no doubt that these arguments are unan- 
swerable, not a joint of their logic defective. 

They are valuable in their place; but the 
foundation of our faith is not here. It lies lower 
than argument, in that deeper sea over w r hich 
all the waves of logical controversies may dash 
themselves into idle foam, while it rests in 
quiet. I have known God. The Father has 
come to me, and I have heard his voice in my 
heart. My saying this may not justify my faith 
to those who have not yet found him ; but to 
me that is all-sufficient evidence : it is not proof, 
it is knowledge. I have known a dear friend. 
Do I need to sit down, and reason on the matter ; 
to discuss the probabilities of the existence of 
such a person ; mark out his qualities, and argue 
that a friend must needs exist, for otherwise 
the world would be lonely and void ? Or must 
I go into my parlor, and take up a gift from 
him, and argue that this gift could not have 
dropped down here by chance; that it was 
plainly a designed benefaction ; that, if it was 
designed, somebody must have designed it, and, 
if a benefaction, its author must be my friend ? 
What is the use of this roundabout process? 
I have known him and loved him, and he has 
loved me, and that is enough. And so we may 
say of God, the friend nearest to us, who does 
us more good than all others. We have spoken 
to him, and he has answered us, and we know 



212 



PIETY. 



that God is. Better than a library of books 
of evidence, to me is one single prayer. 



HEN men seem to undervalue piety, there 



" » is some mistake about it. There is some- 
thing which may indeed have assumed its name, 
which you heartily despise ; and with reason. 
It is cant and hypocrisj 7 ; the prayers at the cor- 
ners of the streets, which rise no higher than the 
men who hear them ; the words of devotion cou- 
pled on to a mean and dishonest life. I think God 
despises that more than you can do. We know 
that Jesus never denounced any other class of 
sinners with the severity which he used against 
hypocrites. But beware, while you speak against 
cant and hypocrisy, that you do not at the same 
time ridicule and set yourselves in opposition 
to piety itself. It is only the precious jewels 
which are counterfeited. True piety is just as 
essential as the pretence of piety is contempt- 
ible. This is so very contemptible, because it is 
the counterfeit of a thing so very good and holy. 
When you speak against a hypocrite, call him 
a hypocrite, which he is, and not a " pious " 
man, which he is farther from than you are. 

Genuine piety is respected by all : like gold, 
it is valued equally by him who has it and by 



PIETY. 




PIETY. 



213 



him who has it not. A soldier's letter gives the 
following incident. He was writing from a 
hospital, where he, with many others, was suf- 
fering from sickness and wounds. In charge 
of his ward was a nurse, a plain, simple-minded, 
kind, religious woman. She felt it to be her 
duty to speak very freely with the men upon 
religious subjects. On one occasion, as she was 
talking thus, one said, half jestingly, " Come, 
Sarah, can't you pray?" She said not a word, 
but knelt down there, and offered a simple, ear- 
nest, fervent prayer for them, and those dear to 
them. It went straight to their hearts ; and 
those rough soldiers, who had begun in sport, 
were now drawing their coat-sleeves across their 
eyes to wipe the tears away. However seldom 
they might pray for themselves, they knew that 
that was a genuine and an availing prayer. 

Do not, my friends, however much you may 
despise its pretence, allow yourselves to con- 
found this w r ith that which is genuine and real. 
Do not suffer yourselves even to speak as if you 
undervalued that. I must be more just to you 
than some of you are to yourselves. You value 
it. As I sit at your tables, why else do you 
invite me to ask of Almighty God a blessing 
upon the food which he has given? You value 
it. What are all these forms of public worship 
but a solemn mockery, if prayer have no sub- 
stantial efficacy ; if there be " no actual inter- 



214 



PIETY. 



change between heaven and earth ; of ascending 
petitions on the one hand, of descending mer- 
cies and fulfilments on the other " ? You value 
it. Else as we stand by the dead, the last place 
in the world for hollow pretence, why do you 
ask me to pray for consolation and support to 
the bereaved ? You value it now ; and the 
time is coming to each of us when we shall 
value it yet more highly. The facts of this 
world, which have seemed so solid and practical, 
will by and by appear dim and unsubstantial 
beside it. As our friend said, " It is strange 
how insignificant every thing in this world 
looks from where I stand ; of how little impor- 
tance all the pushing and striving for position 
seem to me now to be ; and even this great Re- 
bellion appears as nothing." As heaven becomes 
nearer, these things, which we call now the 
great realities, begin to seem strangely unreal 
and shadowy. God is the great reality, and 
God's help will be the practical thing then. I 
do not find those who stand in this bright light, 
which unveils all shams and pretences, even 
such as we have imposed upon ourselves ; I 
do not find them speaking much of their good 
moral characters, of what they have done, or 
even of what they have not done. It gives 
little comfort to tell them what a good life they 
have lived ; they are more painfully conscious 
of its defects than any one else can be. But 



MORALITY AND RELIGION. 



215 



they turn then to God ; they think of his love 
and his great mercy. They strive more ear- 
nestly to feel the Father's presence with them; 
and they pray for his strength and support to 
uphold them. They lean upon him, and are at 
peace. Does not this disclose to us what are 
the great verities, the substantial realities of 
life? 

The more you cultivate prayer, the more you 
will find it to be, not only a comfort and a joy, 
but a practical help in the work and conduct 
of life. The great God offers himself as a com- 
panion and friend and helper, among the per- 
plexities and difficulties and trials of life. Do 
you think that you can pass through them 
alone? Be it so; but how much more easily, 
how much better, if you accept the offered 
help ! " Watch ; " you cannot watch too earn- 
estly ; but reinforce your effort with the help 
of Him who is stronger than you. " Watch 
and pray, that you enter not into temptation.' 7 



MORALITY AXD RELIGION. 

; < f\NE thing thou lackest." Of us, the out- 
ward act of selling all that we have is 
not required. But the spirit implied in it is es- 
sential now. We need, as deeply as the young 



216 



MORALITY AND RELIGION. 



Jewish ruler did, to consecrate ourselves to 
God, to rise from the life of mere morality to the 
life of religion. What is the change, then, 
which is indispensable ? Not so much of out- 
ward act. Perhaps often the outward life might 
go on very much the same. One might not be 
more generous than before, because he needed 
not to be. But there is a change of motive, of 
governing principle. What before was done 
from the impulse of a generous heart is now 
done religiously and with reference to God. The 
moral man of impulse becomes the moral man of 
principle. His life, his morality, is sanctified by 
the divine life which flows into it. We may 
illustrate this point by a matter of every-day 
experience. A person may perform a piece of 
music with perfect accuracy, with not a single 
false note ; and yet there may be a great defi- 
ciency in the performance. There may be no 
soul in it : it may be only mechanical. But let 
such a one feel the thought which he is thus 
expressing, and new life is breathed into the 
music. Such music as this, is that which alone 
touches the heart of him who hears ; it is this 
alone which is true music. So is it with the 
performance of these good acts: a spirit must 
pervade them, if they be complete, the spirit of 
piety and religion. The acts may be the same, 
as the notes of music are; but only thus do they 
become living. Are there not many who have 



PRAYER. 



217 



felt this need ; who, in time of trial, have felt 
that their cisterns were not supplied from the 
unfailing fountain, that they were not connected 
with the infinite source of strength? One thing 
is wanting, an awakening to religion, a spiritual 
experience. God must enter into the life and 
sanctify it, or it is barren. 



HAT act that any man can perform is 



" " greater than this, to commune with God ? 
We may think that it is a great thing to lead 
armies on to victory ; to combine the forces of 
nature so as to produce important results which 
have not been known before ; to read the mas- 
sive hieroglyphics written in the stone, and 
draw from the earth its story out of the dark 
abyss of time ; a great thing to search beyond 
this earth into the mysteries of the universe, 
and make it yield up its stars and planets to our 
gaze from the infinity of space. And greater 
still it may seem to be to touch the hearts of 
multitudes by the living voice ; to think, and 
express the thoughts in glowing words on the 
printed page, or through the painted canvass, 
or the sculptured stone. But to do these 
is not the noblest prerogative of manhood. 



PRAYER. 




218 



PRAYER. 



Greater than to lead armies to victory ; greater 
than the pursuit of the inventor, the astrono- 
mer, or the geologist ; greater even than the 
work of the sculptor, the poet ; the philosopher, 
or the orator ; greater than all these is it to 
pray. These all are communion with dull mat- 
ter, or with the finite : this is communion with 
the Infinite. 



OD may see more real worship in one short 
prayer, breathed by one of earth's lowliest 
ones amid the busy whirl of looms and spindles, 
than comes to him on the Sabbath from the great 
cathedral filled with multitudes, who, with un- 
covered heads, gaze at the priests as they chant 
their Latin psalms, and bear their swinging cen- 
sers. More prayer may go up this day from 
some sick-chamber, where the Christian waits in 
patience the coming of his Lord, than from the 
congregation in the house of God. In the ser- 
vice of this morning, if, of the four hundred 
gathered here, only ten joined in the worship, 
then was the church empty of worshippers, ex- 
cept those ten. If only the minister prayed, so 
far as God's worship is concerned, he might as 
well have prayed at home. The church had 
then but one worshipper to-day. 



PRAYER. 



219 



npOO much of our public devotion consists, 
not so much in praying, as in rehearsing the 
divine perfections, and repeating such thoughts 
as may be likely to bring us into a suitable 
frame of mind. Do we not in this imitate the 
Jewish prayers, as we find them in the Psalms, 
instead of the model given us by Jesus ? The 
former were rather designed to glorify God 
than to help man ; they were rather a tribute to 
almighty majesty, than the expression of human 
need ; they were rather praise than truly ask- 
ing. Do we not now hear many Jewish pray- 
ers, expressing indeed the praises of God, and 
describing his attributes, but not the Christian 
prayer of need? 



npHE Lord's Prayer, that model of Christian 
**- devotion, is spiritual ; the expression of a 
real communion with God. But it is not this 
alone. It does not make devotion solely a state 
of dreamy ecstasy. It is also practical. It 
asks for the satisfaction of our commonest 
want. Such is the prayer, which, as has been 
well said, " the lowliest sinner may utter, and 
the holiest saint cannot outgrow. 77 



220 CHRISTIANITY A PERSONAL RELIGION. 



CHRISTIANITY A PERSONAL RELIGION. 

TT is a characteristic of our Saviour's teach- 
ing, that it is almost wholly personal. 
Christianity addresses men as individuals. It 
is a religion of the personal pronouns. Its key- 
note is, " Follow thou me." It does not lift up 
its voice, and say the world should be reformed, 
the human race should be more moral, this town 
should be Christianized. We might have very 
correct notions of the duties of mankind, and 
yet be faithless to our own. 

There is a great deal of general declamation 
against the sins of the nation, as if the nation 
were some gigantic sinner against whom these 
reproaches were uttered. But this general talk 
is of little avail. Nobody takes it to himself ; 
and the nation continues as great a sinner as 
ever. It does little good to speak thus about 
these indefinite sins, unless we point out each 
man's share in the guilt, and his personal duty 
in regard to it. We can see the absurdity of 
this, if we apply the same method on a smaller 
scale. Suppose the head of a family should see 
that things were not going on well ; that the 
children were becoming disorderly and disobe- 
dient. How would he remedy the evil? Would 
he call the whole family together, speak to 



HAPPINESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 



221 



them of the beauty of order and the necessity 
of obedience, and strive to impress it on their 
minds that families ought to be orderly and obe- 
dient? Such a general lecture might be very 
finely worded and ably given ; those who heard 
it might be impressed with the justness of the 
thoughts he urged : but probably things would 
go on just as before. The wise man would 
speak to each one separately, and enforce upon 
each child his special duty. Thus the family 
would become orderly and obedient. So when 
Christianity would reform the world and purify 
it from its great sins, when it would fill the com- 
munity with its spirit, it does not begin with 
the whole, but with individuals. It makes each 
citizen better, and thus the state more Chris- 
tian. 



HAPPINESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 

TT may indeed be a heavy load which the Chris- 
tian sometimes has to bear up the heavenly 
hill, though the goal is before him, and God's 
strength sustains ; but it is not so heavy as that 
which the traveller on the other road must 
carry. There are sacrifices to be made for God 
and duty ; but tenfold harder are those which 
sin requires. Many true servants of Jesus have 
yielded up their lives for the truth, and borne 



222 RECEPTION OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 



their last witness from the rack, from the scaf- 
fold, from the flames. But Satan has had more 
martyrs than Jesus ; and in more fearful agony, 
and in more terrible torture, have they borne 
their witness. " They have no rest, day nor 
night, who worship the beast." 



TT seems as if some men regard repentance as 
the putting on a yoke ; and becoming reli- 
gious, as the taking up a burden, necessary in- 
deed, but which yet interferes somewhat with the 
joy of this present life. Never was there a great- 
er mistake. The prodigal trembled as he went 
back over his long weary way, because he did not 
know how the father would receive him. But we 
know. We know that we shall be welcomed to 
the home from which we have strayect. There is 
joy even in heaven over one sinner who repent- 
eth. 



RECEPTION OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 

HPHE same inspiring influences are about the 
-■- soul of the sinner, which, when received, 
bless and elevate the mature Christian. The 
heavens are rich enough for us all: not one is 
forgotten, not one is overlooked in the distribu- 



ADDRESS TO THE VOLUNTEERS. 



223 



tion of the divine gift. But, if the same gift is 
bestowed upon all, what makes the difference 
which we see in different persons ? They receive 
it differently. When, yesterday, the shower so 
gladdened the earth, though it fell upon all alike, 
there were some spots upon which it did abso- 
lutely no good. They are to-day just as they 
were yesterday. It called forth an answering 
smile from the green lawn ; but the ledge of rock 
is just as barren and hard as before. It fell as 
gently on the dead tree as on the beautiful 
maples ; but the unsightly wood sent forth not a 
single leaf in gratitude. 



TOT the dim cells of Catholic monasteries, not 



^ the busy Moravian mission-houses, should 
cherish a piety so deep and lofty as this, which 
is the natural fruit of our faith in God the 
Father. 



ADDEESS TO THE VOLUNTEERS, MAY 3, 1861. 



E know we have no need to charge you 



" to be brave. Cowardice does not run in 
West-Cambridge blood. Let the 19th of April, 
1775, answer for that. We know that our flag 
is safe in your hands ; that, wherever it goes, 





224 ADDRESS TO THE VOLUNTEERS. 

you will follow : though it lead into the thick of 
the battle, there will you be found beside it. 
We know you will be true to it, whether your 
lot shall be to rest on your arms beneath the 
shadow of the capitol, or to open the way 
through the rebellious city ; true to it, whether 
it waves over the forlorn hope in the belea- 
guered fortress, or whether in triumph you roll 
out its streaming stars over the rebel capitol. 

But, my brothers, do not forget that you are 
soldiers also in another warfare ; one in which 
we at home are bearing you company ; a war- 
fare whose perils are greater than those of the 
battle-field. Be on your guard, we beseech 
you, against the temptations (and strong they 
are) of a soldier's life. Come back to us nobler, 
purer, and more Christian than you went, be- 
cause you have grown strong by the consci- 
entious discharge of duty. It is said that those 
Puritan warriors of Cromwell, whose backs no 
army in Europe had ever seen, though three- 
fold odds were against them, used to advance 
into the battle with prayer and hymn. They 
were never vanquished, because they felt that 
they were serving God. So feel, my friends, 
that you are the Lord's soldiers, as well as your 
country's. Let not vain ambition, nor desire for 
revenge, nor mere excitement, be your animat- 
ing motive, but the firm purpose to do your 
duty. As the old Crusaders wore the cross on 



ADDRESS TO THE VOLUNTEERS. 



225 



their garments, so let the cross be signed on 
your hearts, the holy emblem of sacrifice for 
the right, for conscience, for duty. In that 
sign you will conquer. 

Go on, then, my brothers ! It is for us you 
are going, and not for us only : you go to fight 
for your homes, your wives and your children, 
your fathers and mothers, for your country. 
You will one day, I trust, be proud when you 
remember these times. The page of history is 
again opened. A new Lexington has already 
been inscribed in it : perhaps you will have a 
share in recording a new Bunker Hill. You 
leave our beautiful town : we who remain here 
will watch you in your future course. In 
these homes of ours, the map will often be un- 
rolled, and we shall trace the march, and point, 
u Here is our brave company. ?; And as the 
despatches come home from the war, telling of 
hard-fought battles and glorious victories, they 
will be spelt over, syllable by syllable, by West- 
Cambridge firesides, that we may get some 
tidings of you. Your good behavior and your 
success are ours : make us proud of you ! 
When you are worn down by fatigue and dep- 
rivation, know that our hearts are following 
yours ; and, when dangers are all about you, be 
brave and strong : for many prayers will daily 
go up from these West-Cambridge homes, that 
you may be kept safe. And when you are 

15 



226 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 



tempted to do wrong, as tempted you will be, 
think first of your God, and then of your home, 
and be firm. Yes : you will be constantly re- 
membered here. Friendly wishes will bridge 
over the distance ; and loving hearts, as they 
join in their evening devotion, will rejoice 
when they think that the same stars are shining 
on you as on them, and that the same Father 
is watching over both. And from the gathered 
congregations on the Sabbath, from the family 
altars, and from silent hearts in the watches 
of the night, we shall send up prayers for you ; 
prayers that you may be guarded from danger, 
that you may be kept from sin. May God bless 
you, as you go from us ! Our hope and trust is, 
that each one will endeavor so to live and act 
as becomes a Christian soldier, defending the 
dearest rights and liberties of his country. 
Stand fast in the faith, my brothers ; quit you 
like men, be strong ! 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 

f I ^RUE manliness and true Christianity are 
J- identical. The being a true man, and the 
being a true Christian, are one and the same 
thing. The religious life is not a foreign growth, 
grafted on to the nature God has given, but sim- 
ply its healthy and symmetrical development. 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 



227 



Do we always consider it so ? Is not our 
ideal of a Christian rather of one encompassed 
with sufferings, bowed down by bodily distress, 
bearing patiently the heavy burden ? Is not the 
noblest trophy of our religion found in a poor 
decrepit, worn-down brother, over whose sick- 
bed shines the light which is not of this world, 
and the peace which passeth all understanding ? 
Do we not look for our model Christians among 
those who cannot be any thing else ? Blessed 
be God, that his strength is made perfect in 
weakness, that his rest is for the weary and 
heavy-laden ! 

But we must not take the Christian in sick- 
ness as the sole model of the Christian life. 
The religious principle, ever the same, should 
take to itself a form corresponding to circum- 
stances. The Christian in sickness and in trial 
is one type ; the Christian in the full strength of 
manhood, and in the active pursuit of duty, is 
another type of the same spirit of Christ. We 
want both : especially in these days do we need 
the latter. We want a religion that has muscle 
in it, which is flushed with the red blood of 
health. We want strong, healthy, sound, cheer- 
ful Christians. We want a manliness which is 
more robust, more efficient, and more active in 
every good work, because it is based upon and 
pervaded by this very spirit of deep trust in God, 
and the steadfast purpose to obey him. It is the 



228 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 



Christian soldiers who give invincibility to our 
armies ; it is the arm which is uplifted, not in 
brute passion, but with the sober purpose to serve 
God, that strikes the strongest blows. Let the 
brave commander of our flotilla on the Missis- 
sippi* be our example of Christian manliness. 
None has been more energetic, none more prac- 
tical, none more prompt in emergency, none 
more brave in danger, than he ; and yet he is a 
man of prayer : energetic, prompt, brave, because 
a man of prayer. Eeturning from that first 
great victory which thrilled the country with a 
new hope, weary and worn with his great respon- 
sibility, he went to join in the Sabbath worship ; 
and, finding the clergyman absent, he occupied 
the pulpit, and in prayer thanked the Lord for 
his goodness, and in the sermon told his wonder- 
ing hearers how he had wrestled with God in 
prayer, and he had given him the victory. 

Who, now, is the true man that the world 
admires ? Sketch out his qualities. He must 
be courteous, generous, courageous, patriotic, 
truthful, reverent. These are the qualities to 
which the world loves to give honor: even one 
or two of them alone may, by their lustre, cover 
up many shortcomings and deficiencies. But 
what are these ? Trace back to their roots these 
qualities. What is the single formula which 
comprehends them all, if they are genuine and 
* Rear-Admiral A, H. Foote. 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 



229 



true ? What is courtesy ? It is not sham 
politeness, which is only skin-deep, which puts 
on the graces for the sake of winning men's favor 
and admiration. No one honors that. It is 
kindness ; it is, as the accomplished man of the 
world himself defined it, " sacrificing one's own 
self-love to other people's " in little things. Is not 
this, then, in its essence, self-denial? What is 
generosity ? It is not giving away that which 
one can as well spare as not ; but it is the giving 
that which costs something. Is not that a sacri- 
fice of self ? What is courage ? It is not by 
any means the cowardice of him, who fights 
because he is afraid that men will call him a 
coward ; nor is it the unthinking impulse of 
rashness. But he is courageous, who, knowing 
the danger, deliberately encounters it, risking 
himself for something which is greater and 
dearer to him than himself. What is patriotism ? 
It is not the cheap talk of devotion to the country 
and desire to serve it, when every thing moves 
•along prosperously : but it is the standing by it 
in time of need ; it is the being willing to make 
some sacrifice for it ; it is the feeling that God 
and country should be first, and self afterwards. 
It is self-devotion. What is truthfulness, but 
the spirit which prompts a man to tell the truth, 
cut where it may ; though it may strike home to 
his own dearest interest ? And what is rever- 
ence, but the bowing one's self humbly and obe- 



230 



CHRISTIAN MANLINESS. 



diently before Him who is over all ? See you not 
how all these qualities of the true man spring 
from one and the same root, self-sacrifice, self- 
denial ? 

What, then, is being a man, but being a Chris- 
tian? What is the aim of Christianity, but to 
make us true men, to develop our powers and 
faculties in the way that God intended they 
should be developed ? I count it one of the 
hidden blessings of those times, that we are 
called by them to a higher manliness. Pros- 
perity is good for teaching us some virtues ; but 
this is not one of them. It flourishes best in the 
shade. It is nurtured among storms. We are 
happiest when all is quiet and prosperous ; but 
it is adversity which develops the inner strength, 
and brings out the man in us. A man never 
knows what he is, till he has been trained in its 
stern school. 

And so is it with a nation. Perhaps there 
could not be a greater calamity to a country than 
uninterrupted prosperity through even three 
generations. Boasting would then have its free 
course ; to the manly virtues would grow puny, 
because they had little exercise ; the strong and 
heroic traits in human character would be soft- 
ened down ; and patriotism would become a tra- 
dition of the olden time. But let a great danger 
startle the nation out of her sleep ! A new spirit 
is born, which, in the years of quiet and prosperity, 



IMPROVEMENT OF OPPORTUNITIES. 231 

you had looked for in vain. The spark of patri- 
otism is kindled into a living flame in a million 
hearts. Men take up the cross gladly, and 
sacrifice themselves and all they have on the 
altar of their country's service. "We begin to 
trust in something higher than ourselves ; we 
turn again to the God to whom our fathers 
prayed, and the unwonted petition for help for 
our country rises from our lips. 

The world is accustomed to call a nation strong, 
when peace and prosperity reign within its bor- 
ders ; when its granaries are full of corn, and 
its treasury of gold ; when its material interests 
are in the full tide of success. Yes : but then its 
soul may be weak, and its strength enervated ; it 
may be trembling to ruin. Call it rather strong, 
when it is united as one man by one common 
cause and one holy name ; when it has grounded 
its feet on the rock of conscience, and knows 
that its cause is just. Call it strong then, though 
its treasury be bankrupt, and its vessels rot at its 
wharves. Call it strong, though the world be in 
arms against it. 



IMPROVEMENT OF OPPORTUNITIES. 

OPPORTUNITIES are nothing in themselves, 
but as they are used. We might define 
them to be " the occasion improved." These 



232 IMPROVEMENT OF OPPORTUNITIES. 



occasions are always offered to each man ; but 
each man does not see them, each man does not 
use them. That which we neglect, may be to 
others a golden opportunity ; and, Avhen we see 
the result, we may forget that the same chance 
was ours, and may lament because we are not 
as fortunate as others. 

There were many boys in the Koyal Artillery 
School at Brienne ; but it was reserved for only 
one of them to be a Napoleon. The circum- 
stances which surrounded his early life were 
shared by many. The same restless excite- 
ment of the French people which he used as a 
path to empire, the same desire for conquest, 
the same fierce passion for liberty, existed as 
facts, and offered occasions to other men; but 
he alone used them, and made himself what he 
was. Many a boy had seen the boiling water 
lift the cover of the tea-kettle, and perhaps 
many have wondered why it moved up and 
down by some invisible force ; but it was the 
boy Watt who made this fact suggest to him 
the steam-engine. The occasion was open to 
every one ; every child has had it presented to 
him : but he made it an opportunity, he used it. 

As Galileo was walking in the Cathedral of 
Pisa, he noticed one of the lamps, suspended 
from the ceiling, moved to and fro by the wind. 
Chandeliers many times before and since have 
swung, and many people have noticed them. 



IMPROVEMENT OF OPPORTUNITIES. 233 



But it attracted his attention particularly; and 
from it he made the great discovery of the pen- 
dulum. Many of the good Christians of England, 
during the eighteenth century, visited prisons, 
and lamented their wretchedness and their 
abuses ; but Howard set himself about the 
practical work of improving them. And so, at 
the time of Luther, many monks pored over 
their Greek Testaments in the cells of their 
monasteries ; many good Catholics were shocked 
and grieved by the infamous traffic in indul- 
gences : but he used the opportunity, he trans- 
lated the Bible into the language of his country, 
he led on the Reformation. Occasions are open 
to all of us. We make opportunities for our- 
selves. Life and nature have a language for 
all ; but all do not read it. " The same event 
happens to the wise man and to the fool. 7 ' 

Many men hurry through life, and its events 
leave little trace of their happiness. Events are 
not experience. A man may go through much 
of incident, and yet be little wiser. It is the 
event improved, the event digested and as- 
similated to the character, which is experience. 
What shall be the influence of circumstances, it 
is ours absolutely to decide. We are free. No 
human power, no earthly event, can compel us, 
unless we consent. We are sovereigns of our- 
selves, subject only to God. We are his vice- 
gerents in governing our own souls. 



234 IMPROVEMENT OF OPPORTUNITIES. 



How great is the goodness of God, who has 
thus given into each man's hand the mingling 
of his cup of life ! He gives the ingredients, 
and we make them bitter or sweet as we use or 
abuse them. It is not good, it is not evil, that 
he gives us ; but that from which we can pro- 
duce what we will. How sad is it to turn from 
our possible greatness to our actual littleness; 
to consider ourselves as we are, and not as we 
might be ; to look at man, driven hither and 
thither by every changing event, the sport of 
circumstances ; to see him sin because he is 
tempted, unhappy because he has not used the 
opportunity of trial to become strong ! Let us 
assert our independence ; let us use our birth- 
right of freedom ; let us claim the prerogative 
of our manhood. " For all things are ours ; 
whether the world or life or death, or things 
present, or things to come, all are ours; and 
we are Christ's, and Christ is God's." 



BOVE, we must remember, life is not meas- 



ured, it is weighed : the record is not how 




long, but how much. 



ACTIVITY IN OLD AGE. 



235 



ACTIVITY IN OLD AGE. 

EVEN the decay of our faculties, I am 
persuaded, is much in our own power. 
Though we cannot repeal the law of our nature, 
yet we can retard or hasten it. I believe that 
the loss of faculties in old persons is much owing 
to themselves. 

It is the law of our constitution, that our 
powers unused shall grow weak : use strength- 
ens them. It is common, when a person be- 
comes advanced in life, for his friends, from 
motives of kindness, to urge him to give up all 
thought of business, and to enjoy his leisure. 
He is told that he has done enough, and that he 
should now cease, and enjoy the fruit of his 
labors. There could not be a more mistaken 
kindness. The powers even of a young person, 
if unused, grow weak; and why should not this 
rule apply more strongly to the old ? We notice 
it as a general fact, that those who continue 
actively employed bear their age, and retain 
the exercise of their faculties, the best. Is it 
not almost always the case, that interest in 
matters of daily concern fails, before the capacity 
to attend to them is lost? Tools unused are 
ruined by rust quicker than they wear out by 
constant work. We have known men, who have 
seen even their ninety winters, with faculties 



236 PATIENCE TO WAIT FOR RESULTS. 

still fresh and vigorous, and as competent to 
any intellectual work, as they were thirty years 
before. It is because they have kept up their 
interest in what is going on around them. 
They have not let their faculties rust out. 
The studies, the business, of their earlier life, 
have not only cheered them, but have been the 
strength of their advancing age. 



PATIENCE TO WAIT FOR RESULTS. 

X ET those who crave the outward show of 
success turn to the example of the great 
Teacher. During his own life, how small were 
the apparent results of his ministry ! It would 
be easy for one who looked no farther than the 
outside, to call that a failure. And yet that 
ministry was given by inspiration, and was for- 
tified by miracle. Who can now estimate the 
stupendous results which have followed directly 
from those three years of apparently unsuccess- 
ful work? Here surely is encouragement, so 
long as the world shall last, for men to work on, 
nothing doubting, sure that the same God rules 
now as then. 

And it is precisely the same with any good 
we undertake to do on a wider scale, any great 
truth which has come to us, and which we wish 



PATIENCE TO WAIT FOE RESULTS. 237 



to impress upon men. How slowly it advan- 
ces ! How impotent seem all our exertions ! 
And yet our work, if it be hearty and earnest, is 
never lost. We must work out many hard prob- 
lems by the rule of addition. Xo single effort 
can do all. Even after our object is accom- 
plished, we shall not be able to place our finger 
on any one act, and say that this did it. It 
must be by the cumulative weight of many 
countless efforts and prayers that any great 
good shall be accomplished. It is enough for 
you that yours are added into the sum. 

You see the workmen in some great quarry, 
looking like ants as they creep along its precipi- 
tous sides. What can they do, so weak them- 
selves, with so weak tools, to cut away the hard 
granite which has borne unshaken the winds 
and the waves of uncounted centuries? Still 
they work on, and you hear the quick blows 
of the hammers, as inch after inch the tool 
sinks its little circle. Each thimbleful of dust 
which they take out seems, indeed, to make very 
little impression on the solid rock. One might 
say, What will all this amount to ? It will take 
a hundred years to do any thing in this way. 
But look on. Grain by grain, the rock is exca- 
vated, the place for the powder is prepared, the 
place from which the change will come. 

How many years of resultless, perhaps hope- 
less work must be done before any great moral 



238 PATIENCE TO WAIT FOR RESULTS. 



or social change shall be brought about ! How 
many earnest workers have desired to see the 
day of the Son of man, and have not seen it! 
But they have prepared the way, they have done 
the pioneer work. The unpopular truth gains 
power. It gains a weak minority, then a strong 
minority, then a majority, and then it is admit- 
ted among the established truths of the human 
mind. Those who worked in discouragement 
and in doubt are as important to the result as 
he who fires the train, and sees the huge dead 
mass heaved and falling over. 

We must not leave the subject without apply- 
ing its lesson to the home education of the young, 
I suppose, if we consider the future consequen- 
ces, this is almost the greatest work in which 
any one of you is engaged. And yet there is 
perhaps no other sphere of action where we 
have to work so completely in the dark. It is 
almost impossible here to calculate the results 
from our separate efforts. There are so many 
things to be taken into the account, so many 
hidden springs of influence, so many opposing 
powers at work, that we cannot unravel out of 
the tangled web any particular thread of influ- 
ence. And then, too, we have to search out 
effects over so wide a surface, which does not 
come within our vision, but extends backward 
to the dim past, and forward, we know not how 
far, into the dim future. The fruit of what 



PATIENCE TO WAIT FOR RESULTS 



239 



we sow is so long ripening, that we can only 
form very general conclusions. I think it is 
here, almost more than anywhere else, that we 
must work on with faith in that which we can- 
not see ; and a very discouraging work it some- 
times is. But we must be sure of this, that 
every duty, however small, which we do faith- 
fully, does so much in the right direction. Are 
there not three hundred and sixty-five days in 
the year, and are not the little influences of each 
day added into the character ? "We cannot be 
sure what w T ill result from any one of them ; but 
only faithfulness on our part will give us an easy 
conscience, when that result is made manifest. 

But this must be borne in mind, that it is only 
those who are faithful who can afford to wait. 
It is only those who are diligent, who can have 
this strong confidence in that which they cannot 
see. This assurance offers no encouragement 
for the idle, no comfort for the unfaithful. It 
is for such as in doubt and uncertainty strive to 
do the best they can, and only for such as these. 
They can rest with unfaltering confidence in the 
divine promise. They can trust their work to 
the future without a doubt. They can experi- 
ence the truth of the prophet's word, " He that 
believeth, maketh not haste. " 



240 



god's greatest trusts. 



GOD'S GREATEST TRUSTS COMMITTED TO 
THE LOWLY. 

HAT person in the first half of the last 
century had God's greatest trust to exe- 
cute, the one which was to have the most 
important bearing on the interests of the world ? 
I suppose that you would name king after king, 
who, in the tangled web of diplomacy or on the 
bloody field, was seeking aggrandizement for 
himself and for his nation. They thought so 
themselves. But the great plans which filled 
their minds have crumbled to the dust. Men's 
memories have not room for them; and history, 
growing briefer and briefer, may at last forget 
even their names. It was not they who had 
God's greatest trust. 

I think that it was the wife of an obscure 
Virginian planter, who came to the baptismal 
font, and there promised to try to bring up 
her son as a Christian ; and then in her coun- 
try home, with a distinct feeling of her respon- 
sibility to God and in a spirit of faithfulness 
to that vow, tried so to bring him up that 
he would be an honest, truthful, patriotic, reli- 
gious man. This work of hers, comparatively 
unimportant though it seemed amid the din of 
battles and the jangling of rulers ; this work of 
hers, so Christianly done, outweighed in God's 




" HE WENT ABOUT DOING GOOD." 241 



balance then, and in man's balance now, the 
toilsome plans and undertakings of generals and 
kings. Those unconscious days of quiet Chris- 
tian living, of careful attention to parental duty, 
gave to the world a fruit richer than all that the 
centuries before had garnered. It gave to us 
our Washington. 



"HE WENT ABOUT DOING GOOD." 
HAT a noble memorial this would be, to 



" * be inscribed by loving friends as a testi- 
mony of their respect ! Prouder epitaph than 
this the sculptured marble has never borne. 
And yet, though I have seen numberless verses 
of Scripture used as the expression of affection 
and reverence for those who have gone, I do not 
remember .ever to have seen this. Why should 
this be passed over? Is it because it is so plain 
and clear, and because the inconsistency of even 
excellent characters with this praise would be 
so evident? Is it because we choose rather 
words which are veiled somewhat in mystery, 
where the contradiction would not be so mani- 



But what better thing could we strive for 
than this ; not to have it inscribed on our tomb- 
stones, but written in God's book of remem- 




fest? 



16 



242 U HE WENT ABOUT DOING GOOD." 



brance? What loftier aim can we propose to 
ourselves than this most Christian purpose : I 
will do what good I can ; I will add as much as 
possible to others 7 happiness ; the burdens and 
troubles which weigh so heavily on some, I will 
lighten so far as is in my power ? Let this sen- 
tence of Holy Writ, this example of the Holy 
One, " he went about doing good," rule this day, 
this week, this month. We shall still be busy 
as usual upon our ordinary work, but also 
" about our Father's business." Doing this, we 
need not be anxious about ourselves ; we need 
not fear lest we have fallen from the faith ; we 
need not puzzle ourselves with perplexing 
creeds, with dark beliefs, with anxious ques- 
tionings. We need look no farther; we are 
safe ; safe here, safe in all the contingencies of 
the future world. For we are walking in the 
very steps of Jesus; and those steps lead 
surely to peace and heavenly bliss. 



TT is more blessed to give than to receive ; or, 
J- as Shakspeare translates it, "It is twice 
blessed : it blesseth him that gives, and him 
that takes.' 7 There is no happiness like this. 
Sweeter than the memory of appetite indulged, 
plans successful, ambition realized, is the thought 
of good done. If you have ever tried it, you 



MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. 



243 



know. We have helped somebody to be better; 
some sick man remembered our visit last night 
in his evening prayer; some poor little child 
will not shiver next week, as they did the last 
on their way to school. I verily believe we 
feel happier about it than they do. 



MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. 

rpHE savage is the only really independent 
man. He builds his own hut of boughs 
and bark ; he digs up the little plot of open 
ground beside it, with the wooden hoe of his 
own making ; he raises his corn, and grinds it 
in his own mortar. He draws his sustenance 
from the stream and the forest, by his own un- 
aided dexterity. He lives free from most of 
the dependences of civilized life, and free from 
its comforts and conveniences too. If all man- 
kind except his own family were at once de- 
stroyed, it would matter little to him. He would 
be as comfortable as before. 

But in civilized life comes an increase of 
wants. Our idea of comfort is not the same 
with that of the savage. We need more. Di- 
vision of labor comes in to help us in supplying 
these wants. One man does one thing for a 
hundred others ; and they, in turn, supply for him 



244 



MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. 



a hundred different wants. Thus, it probably re- 
quired the contributions of five thousand men 
to build and furnish the house you live in. So 
each does for all, and all for each. And in this 
mutual dependence is the very essence of our 
civilization. Such, then, is the law of our social 
life. Our relation is one of mutual help and 
mutual want. This is the fact, and we may 
derive a practical lesson from it. 

And, first, it teaches the foolishness of pride, 
on the one side, and of abject servility, on the 
other. What is station, and what is wealth, but 
the opportunity to serve the community in a 
particular field of action ? and what is poverty, 
but the necessity to serve it in another ? The 
rich and the poor are alike servants of the com- 
mon whole. The merchant serves the world in 
one way, and the day-laborer in another. We 
need not decide which service is the more 
honorable, or which place the more truly re- 
spectable. It is enough that each is necessary 
to the common good. 

Honor and respectability rest, not in the 
particular sphere which a man fills, but in the 
way in which he fills it. The poor cannot say 
to the rich, that he has no need of him ; nor can 
the rich say to the poor, that he has no need of 
him. He who works with his brain has no 
right to despise him who works with his hands ; 
for the Lord of the world requires, for its good, 



CONTAGION OF EYIL. 



245 



hand-work as well as head-work. Some may be 
only hewers of wood and drawers of water : there 
is no degradation in that, if they only perform 
their duty well. There must needs be wood 
hewn and water drawn. There must be diver- 
sity of callings among men. What sort of a 
world should we have, if men were all mer- 
chants, or all farmers, or all lawyers ? We need 
all the thousand occupations of civilized life ; 
and none can claim that his is peculiarly neces- 
sary, for all are essential to the comfort of the 
whole. 

No one need feel, then, that his sphere is nar- 
row, and his work unimportant. If he does it 
well, the world could not spare him from it. It 
needs a man in just that place, and no other 
than he would answer as well. There is but 
one place which is dishonorable and degrading ; 
and that is, to be a dead branch on the tree of 
life, a withered limb of that body of which we 
are all members. 



CONTAGION OF EVIL. 
T times there seem to be epidemic sins, 



which break out here and there over an 
entire community. Sometimes it is incendia- 
rism. The papers are full of house-burnings. 
All the bad blood in the community seems to 




246 



CONTAGION OF EVIL. 



show itself in this single crime. And then there 
are cases of poisoning all over the land. Then 
suicide is the prevailing sin of the hour. Per- 
haps the infection takes a new form. It attacks 
those in places of trust, and the whole com- 
munity is startled by reports of defalcations, 
embezzlements, and frauds, committed by those 
high in public confidence. 

The tide which is passing over seems to 
sweep away those who are weak in principle 
and of unsteadfast character. But the contagion 
of evil is of such nature that it even affects those 
whose principles are fixed, and whose will is 
strenuous against it. Place even a Christian 
in company where he hears habitually pro- 
fane language, and, though he strives against 
it, his religious life will be sullied, the delicate 
plant of reverence and piety will droop and 
wither. Though he utters no blasphemy, yet, 
against his will, he feels a spiritual declension. 
One cannot set limits to these disagreeable 
qualities : they will not be monopolized. You 
might as well have a case of ship-fever in your 
house, and think that it would not spread. If 
one member of the family is selfish, you will not 
be apt to find the rest self-sacrificing and dis- 
interested. If one indulges in fretfulness and 
scolding, the rest soon begin to fret and scold 
too. The very children enter into the spirit 
which rules the household. 



CONTAGION OF EVIL. 



247 



There are several practical reflections which 
follow from this view of the contagious nature 
of sin. One of the most obvious is, that it is 
wisest for us to keep as far as possible out of its 
way. Some think that they are strong enough 
to venture within the charmed circle of vice. 
It has no fascinations for them. They are in no 
danger, and they want to widen their experience 
by an acquaintance with the evil as well as the 
good of life. At best, it is a foolish and a dan- 
gerous experiment. It can do no good, and it 
may do extreme harm. There is but one thing 
which will render it safe for a man thus to be 
familiar with sin and the sinful; and that is. to 
go among them, not from curiosity, but with the 
earnest purpose to do them good. This Chris- 
tian purpose is the only antidote to the con- 
tagion. 

It is the dictate of self-interest, as well as 
of humanity, to cleanse the community of this 
infectious element. It is not safe for us to 
leave it to itself: we cannot tell where it will 
spread. You may say, " It is none of my busi- 
ness to look after the vicious and degraded; if 
they lie and steal and drink, it is their own 
lookout, not mine, so long as they do me no 
harm." Ah! but the contagion may come into 
your family ; your sons may come under its 
baneful influence, and fall beneath it. It is 
nothing to us, the rich may think, that the poor 



248 



CONTAGION OF EYIL. 



are living in squalidness and filth : let them 
better themselves, if they can. Yes ; but by 
and by the cholera sweeps through those dirty 
hovels of Broad Street; and does it stop there? 
No : the malaria passes thence to the palace on 
Beacon Hill, and preaches there the great truth 
that all men are brothers. It is nothing to you, 
do you say, the physical condition of the poor 
man? Yes: it is something to you, so long as 
you can take the cholera or the fever from him. 
Is it nothing to you, that men will sink them- 
selves in vice and dissipation? Yes: it is some- 
thing to you, so long as those dearest to you 
have no infallible prophylactic against the infec- 
tion of their vice. These Ministers at Large, 
these Children's Missions, these Washingtonian 
Homes, these Sons of Temperance, all, in their 
way, aim to reach and to disinfect this element 
of contagion ; and so they are to be sustained 
not merely as a requirement of Christian philan- 
thropy, but even as the dictate of an enlight- 
ened self-interest. 

This fact, too, of the contagious nature of sin, 
gives us a hint in respect to the proper mode of 
influencing young persons and others to follow 
the paths of virtue. We can do this better by 
placing before them the beauty of goodness, 
than by holding up to their view the hideous- 
ness of sin. It is said that the Lacedemonians 
used to intoxicate their slaves, that their pitia- 



CONTAGION OF EVIL. 



249 



ble condition might be a warning to their sons, 
which should keep them from intemperance. I 
doubt the wisdom of such a course : it may have 
had a tendency to increase the very evil which 
it was designed to prevent. It is better to hold 
up examples which you wish men to follow, 
rather than to press upon their attention those 
which you wish them to shun. They might never 
have thought of these, unless you yourselves had 
brought them to their minds ; and mere famil- 
iarity is dangerous. On this account, it seems 
to me that our newspapers often do an injury to 
the community by publishing the full details of 
atrocities and crimes : at best, it only gratifies a 
prurient curiosity, and it may stimulate and 
awaken the desire of imitation in some readers, 
which might otherwise have slumbered. I would 
say the same of works of fiction which have 
villains for their heroes : they are wholly inju- 
rious in their tendency. To descend even to a 
smaller matter, I doubt the advantage of that 
whole class of books, designed, with the best 
intentions, to teach juvenile morality, but which 
would do this by showing the evil consequences 
of sin. Such are stories of bad boys, who came 
to a bad end ; boys who lied or stole, or broke 
the Sabbath, and suffered in consequence. Chil- 
dren are natural imitators, and the bad things 
told will remain in their minds long after the 
moral designed to be taught by their punishment 



250 



MORALITY IN BUSINESS. 



has vanished. Let them have examples which 
are safe to follow; examples of self-sacrifice, 
obedience, and truthfulness. These appeal to 
what is noble and generous and good in their 
hearts, and are sure to call out a response. Al- 
lure them to good : the evil they will find out 
soon enough without your help. 

But there is a brighter side to this subject. 
We must remember that good is contagious, as 
well as evil. If a selfish person can lead those 
about him, by the unconscious influence of his 
character, to selfishness, it is equally true that a 
single act of self-sacrifice may thrill a nation, 
and lift it up to nobler aims. If fretfulness and 
discontent will spread from one to another in a 
family, till, of that baneful quality, the whole 
be leavened ; so does genuine cheerfulness and 
hearty kindliness draw to itself other hearts. 
Bring up against the subtle poison of vice the 
over-mastering power of steadfast virtue. Over- 
come evil with good. When these two are 
parties to the contest, the victory is not doubt- 
ful. 



MORALITY IN BUSINESS AND POLITICS. 

HPHE object of most of our business arrange- 
ments is to make money. There is no 
harm in that, provided we do it in an honest 



MORALITY IN BUSINESS, 



251 



and Christian way. But I fear that the great 
principles of morality and religion are not ac- 
knowledged in the length and breadth of their 
application. The main current of business does 
not reach as high a level as it should. It is 
sometimes transformed into a game of chance. 
The success which ought to be the rightful 
reward of skill, industry, and energy, is sought 
for by the shorter cut of rash speculation. 
Men make haste to be rich, and are not con- 
tented with moderate and sure gains ; but 
they embark in enterprises in which there are 
many blanks and few prizes. There is commer- 
cial gambling, where the cards played are land- 
scrip and railroad stock, and the dice thrown 
are bales of goods and barrels of flour. 

And, moreover, there is a disposition to over- 
look frauds, in proportion as they are perpe- 
trated on a great scale. We are somewhat 
dazzled by the magnificence of the villany ; 
a stupendous defalcation is almost an object of 
wonder. We send to the house of correction 
the poor woman who steals an umbrella; but 
the defaulter to the amount of a million and a 
half, while people are opening their eyes in 
astonishment, quietly pockets the proceeds, and 
takes the steamer for a tour in Europe. There 
is some truth in the old comparison of justice to 
a spider's web, which catches only little crimi- 
nals, while it lets the great ones through. 



252 



MORALITY IN POLITICS. 



A man should do the upright act because it 
is upright, and then thank God if it happens 
to be also profitable. Integrity should be the 
beginning and the end of business, its under- 
lying principle and its constant manifestation, 
its foundation and its superstructure. If a man 
cannot stand uprightly, then let him fall up- 
rightly. If he cannot live honestly, he can at 
least starve honestly. He should not act on the 
motto, " Make money at all events : honestly, 
if you can ; " but, " Be honest at all events, and 
make money if you can." 

And the lack of principle also manifests itself 
in politics. The very name has come into bad 
repute ; and a professed politician would be 
looked upon by most persons as a suspicious 
character. But why is this? Politics is a 
noble science ; a study which might task the 
mind and heart of the greatest man. It is 
balancing the rights and interests of all the 
different parts of the country, so as to promote 
the good of the common whole. It might 
furnish exertion for the most comprehensive 
intellect, and the most quick and sensitive con- 
science. To be a true politician requires the 
best qualities of mind and heart. If our poli- 
tics were of this elevated stamp, there might 
still be parties. For honest and strong-minded 
men do not always see alike ; and particular 
measures do not strike all minds in the same 



MORALITY IN POLITICS. 



253 



way. Unity of opinion might not, indeed, exist: 
but there would be one thing even better than 
this ; and that is, unity of desire to promote 
the good of the country. With this we might 
feel safe, into whatever hands the government 
might fall ; we might feel sure that all would be 
well. 

This, we would fain believe, was the case in 
the early days of the republic. But how sadly 
are things changed ! What now seems to be 
the moving spring of politics? I can see little 
else than self-interest. Who looks out for the 
good of the country? The offices, from the 
President down to the custom-house porter, are 
considered, not places where the country is to 
be served, but rewards of partisan zeal, or 
bribes when important elections need such help. 
They are prizes in the great lottery of politics. 
There is to be a grand scheme drawn on next 
November. The first prize is twenty-five thou- 
sand a year, the franking privilege for life, and 
the title of President. And so on downwards. 
There are all varieties of prizes to suit differ- 
ent tastes. There are post-offices, great and 
small; custom-house appointments, foreign em- 
bassies, and consulships; memberships of the 
Cabinet for the ambitious, and collectorships of 
ports for the covetous. All these are to fall on 
the one side or the other, with the turn of the 
wheel, on November next. What a sad state of 



254 



HONESTY IN TRADE. 



affairs it is ; almost too sad to be the subject 
of ridicule ! How melancholy a perversion of 
the noble theory of republican government ! 

Just imagine, that principle were at once 
made the ruler and director of politics ; and 
that each of these five million voters were look- 
ing round and seeking for light as to what, not 
his own interest, but the good of the country, 
required ; that each of the hundred thousand 
expectant demagogues were by miracle purged 
of selfish motives, and changed into sincere 
patriots. What a transformation would ensue ! 
Just think of it: such an anomaly as a man 
seeking office, because he really wished to 
serve his country! A politician declaring him- 
self for an unpopular measure, because he be- 
lieved that it was salutary and necessary ! We 
are so used to the opposite state of things, that 
the supposition bears the mark of absurdity on 
its face. Why, you would think the man crazy, 
or would perhaps suspect that he had some 
concealed motive, and was only the deeper and 
shrewder knave. 



HONESTY IN TRADE. 

X BELIEVE that honesty commands at least 
as much premium as gold does now in the 
market. Take the trade-mark of some articles, 



HONESTY IN TRADE. 



255 



which through years have gained the reputa- 
tion of beino- made upon honor. The article 
with that stamp commands, by a definite per 
cent, a larger price in the market than another, 
which seems as good, but has not been proved. 
When the manufacturer puts his label on his 
cloth and his thread, if it is the name of a man 
of tried honesty, that voucher for its being up 
to the standard of quantity and quality makes 
a heavy addition to its value. Such goods are 
more sought, and are more valuable. 

I believe, that, in our country, we over-reach 
ourselves often, in our haste to be rich. In 
Europe, a manufacturer makes a good article, 
and the business is handed down from father to 
son, perhaps through many generations : each 
keeping it up to the standard, not from honesty 
merely, but from interest. The good name is 
better than riches. They would rather throw 
away many thousands of dollars of material, 
than bring the quality down to a lower stand- 
ard : for their business reputation is worth more 
than they would gain. I am afraid that our 
way often is, first to gain a reputation, and then 
to use it for palming off an inferior article on 
the public for temporary profit. It is not a 
wise way, I must believe. Honesty and last- 
ing success go together. 



256 



god's will must be done. 



GOD'S WILL MUST BE DONE. 

XT is a vain task to fight against God. All 
the weight of human power and wealth may 
be against a cause ; it may be despised by the 
great of this world, and hated by the powerful; 
those who advocate it may be scorned and de- 
rided of all, as were those humble men, who, in 
that proud city of A.nfioch, in derision were 
first called Christians : but if it be God's cause, 
it must succeed. In the single might of his 
will, it must prevail, whoever be for it, who- 
ever against it. God's will is done on earth as 
it is in heaven. And the only question is, shall 
we be fellow-laborers with him, or shall we 
engage in the vain attempt to thwart his pur- 
pose? Take courage, humble Christian! What- 
ever comes to you as God's will, labor for it, 
though you be alone. Ask no questions of a 
worldly expediency, if once you be satisfied 
that it is God's purpose. You must know that 
it will come to pass, though all of earth roll its 
weight against it. The solid earth shall be 
crushed as dust, if it is before the chariot- 
wheels of the Omnipotent. The stars in their 
courses were said by the Hebrew prophetess to 
fight against Sisera, the Lord's enemy. God's 
will must be done ; and woe to him who stands 
in its way ! 



DEDICATION OF A NEW HOME. 257 



DEDICATION OF A NEW HOME. 

Deut. xx. 5 : " And the officers shall speak unto the peo- 
ple, saying, What man is there that hath built a new 
house, and hath not dedicated it?" 

IT is a solemn occasion, if we regard it aright, 
when a family enters for the first time its 
new home. What shall pass in those rooms 
which now echo to their footsteps ? Look on ! 
joys how sweet are there ! duties how press- 
ing ! Perchance weariness and pain and sick- 
ness shall chasten the household. There, shall 
be unveiled the great mysteries of birth and of 
death; there, shall the sacrament of marriage 
fill loving hearts with rejoicing ; and from that 
open door the weary pilgrim shall be borne to 
his last home. 

And look on still farther ! A hundred years 
have passed. Those hearts which were so full 
of hope are all still now. The fire has gone 
out on the hearth-stone ; the sob of the mourn- 
er and the laugh of the child alike are hushed ; 
and no sound is heard in those deserted cham- 
bers. All of us who now live will have taken 
the pilgrim staff, and journeyed on. God grant 
that it may be to the u many-mansioned " home 
of the Father ! The old home is in ruins. But 
the spiritual home which we have dedicated, still 
stands, only transplanted. Be it dedicated to 

17 



258 



FAMILY DEVOTION. 



God and to Christ, and the wreck of worlds 
cannot harm it. Sorrow and tears and death 
may be the portion of the household ; but the 
blessed home stands sure. The fire cannot 
burn it, nor the waters of many sorrows destroy 
it. The love which there has been cherished, 
lives for ever. Every prayer breathed up, God 
has taken ; every sacrifice of a mother's love, 
every duty faithfully done, every burden cheer- 
fully borne, he has garnered. The ploughshare 
may go over the ruins ; but still is left " the 
building of God, the house not made with 
hands," as ours was, " eternal in the heavens. 77 



FAMILY DEVOTION. 

WOULD it not have a hallowing influence 
on your days thus to begin them; and 
from the morning prayer would there not come 
to your home a new sacredness? Some weeks 
ago, it was my privilege to spend a few days in 
the home of one of the merchant princes of the 
metropolis ; a member of a firm whose name is 
known and honored throughout the land. It 
was almost a touching sight, as, on Sabbath 
morning, the father took down the well-worn 
Bible, and read a passage from the Holy Book ; 
and then all, parents and children, kneeled 
together in prayer. Must not that home have 



SACRIFICE BEGETS LOVE. 



259 



needs been purer, holier, more influential to 
all good, for that morning prayer? God was 
unmistakably acknowledged in that family as 
its Sovereign and its King. And those children 
would quickly understand, that not only they 
were taught to say their prayers, because this 
was good for children, but that he whom they 
respected and loved most, felt it needful and 
right himself to pray. That single example to 
those children throughout all their lives would 
be worth volumes of exhortations, as a motive 
to devout and Christian living. 

Entering, then, on the day, the uncertain day, 
the day of temptation, of work, of trial, come 
first to the ever-present Friend, and seek his 
help. And, when the night comes, again bow 
the knee to Him who " maketh the outgoings 
of the morning and evening to rejoice ; " asking 
for forgiveness of its sins, a blessing on its 
work, and his watchful care through the night. 
Thus, my friends, let our life on earth be kept 
near to heaven; thus let each day be begun, 
continued, and ended in God. 



SACRIFICE BEGETS LOVE. 

WE love those objects which have cost us 
something. The more we do for an ob- 
ject, the better we love it. Did you ever notice 



260 



AMUSEMENTS AT HOME. 



which of a family the mother seems to love the 
best? Is it not always the weakest, the most 
sickly, the very one which requires the most of 
her care and work and sacrifice? Be there 
one which has some physical disability, upon 
that one is the wealth of affection lavished. 
The more we do, the more we sacrifice for our 
children, the more they cost us, the better we 
love them. And let us notice here the practi- 
cal inference, that, if we would have our chil- 
dren love us, we must teach them to do what 
they can for us. Weak indulgence begets love 
for themselves, selfishness, and not affection for 
us. Let them do for you, as well as you for 
them. Let them make their little sacrifices, and 
find their reward in your happiness. Let them 
learn from the beginning to minister, as well as 
to be ministered unto, if you would have their 
love for you strong and deep. 



AMUSEMENTS AT HOME. 

DO parents consider sufficiently the impor- 
tance of making home attractive ? Is not 
amusement often sought everywhere else except 
there ? A pleasant home is, I think, the great- 
est outward safeguard you can throw around 
your children. People are too apt to forget that 



AMUSEMENTS AT HOME. 



261 



they were ever boys and girls, and to expect 
children to be as sedate as men and women. If 
they succeed in this, it is ruinous : either the 
spirit and the fire are all suppressed, and the 
children, like fruit ripe before its time, are good 
for nothing ; or, as is more often the case, the 
pent-up steam is gathering strength for a fierce 
outburst at some day in wild excess. 

Let children enjoy themselves at home, if it 
does sometimes make your head ache. You 
have not done your whole duty in this respect, 
if you have provided wood for your sons to saw, 
and plain sewing for your daughters to do, 
though these are well in their place. You do 
not want them to feel that home is a place only 
for the hard and wearisome work of life, and 
that, for pleasure, they must go away from it. 
Have it such that when they go abroad to enjoy 
themselves, as it is good for them sometimes to 
do, they may feel, that, after all, they have just 
about as good a time at home. We cannot 
make it too happy a place. It is well worth 
the trouble and thought required, if we suc- 
ceed in making this the bright spot for a human 
life. 

Let the children play at suitable times ; en- 
courage them and help them to play ; best of all, 
play with them. Thus you get a double gain. 
You can entirely direct and control their amuse- 
ments without any conflict of wills ; and not 



262 



AMUSEMENTS AT HOME. 



only unconsciously lead them in the right way, 
but attach them to yourself by so doing. While 
they enjoy having their parents with them in 
their pleasures at home and abroad, by the un- 
conscious influence of the parents' presence all 
excess and all wrong are kept away without 
any direct interference. And it would do us 
as much good as it does the young. It helps 
us, to keep up our interest and connection with 
them. It keeps us from growing old. What 
more beautiful sight, than a heart still beating 
youthfully beneath the frosts of age ? 

I have no fault to find with any amusement 
pursued in moderation, if it be merely innocent 
in itself and in its surroundings. You may say 
that it does no good. It does good, if it is 
merely innocent recreation. We need that. God 
knew what he was doing when he planted this 
desire, and it is good to work it out in any inno- 
cent way. For my part, I rejoice when any new 
and innocent source of enjoyment is opened 
among us. I hail it as one more help to you, 
young people, in leading you in the path of vir- 
tue ; one more inducement for you to shun the 
road, which so many have followed, down to 
ruin. 



FAITH, THE LESSON OF SPRING. 



263 



FAITH, THE LESSON OF SPRING. 

T~ ET us learn from this season of Spring a 
lesson of faith: or. rather, let the implicit 
faith we show here in things material, shame 
us into a deeper faith in things vet more impor- 
tant. Who is infidel, sceptical, unbelieving, 
now ? With what immovable, undoubting trust 
the world leans on its God! What faith in the 
heavenly Father is shown every spring-time ! 
If I were called upon to point out an example 
of the most entire and unwavering faith, I am 
not sure that I should not choose it from the 
fields instead of the churches. 

This is not a matter of comparatively small 
moment. Just see where we stand. The world 
lives from hand to mouth. We raise just about 
enough in one year to feed us till the next har- 
vest, and but little more. What if, for one 
single year, God should let his blast come on 
the crops of the whole earth ? It would involve 
almost the extermination of mankind. The 
human race would be like those extinct crea- 
tions whose history we trace out in the rocky 
record of our globe. Let there be two months 
of pouring rain, let there be two whole months 
of scorching heat, and where are we ? 

And yet, while we are on the verge of de- 
struction, what faith in God's providence ! How 



264 



FAITH, THE LESSON OF SPRING. 



vital ! how real ! A faith which not only gov- 
erns our acts, and leads us to sow our seed, but 
which even governs our feelings, and keeps us 
from the slightest shadow of anxiety. What 
one of us, during the last week, as we planted 
our farms and gardens, had the slightest dis- 
trust of the result ? Not a shadow of doubt 
ever passed through our minds. 

Let us accept the teaching, and carry our 
faith to yet higher and nobler and more vital 
issues. We have trust in God, that he will re- 
peat this year the miracle of the budding rod. 
We trust him, that he will not let seed-time and 
harvest fail from the earth. We trust him, that 
he will give to these physical frames their daily 
bread. It is the same God who rules in the 
affairs of the soul, and in the experience of life. 
If we can trust so implicitly in his wisdom and 
goodness with reference to our material interests, 
if we are sure that he will take such tender care 
of our bodies, how much more can we have faith 
in him, that he will take care of our souls, which 
are so much more precious in his sight ! Let us 
give to him here the same undoubting faith, the 
same unquestioning trust. He may lead us in 
dark paths; but he can see, he knows the way. 
Rejoicing or sorrowing, living or dying, it is the 
Lord ; and we can trust him. 

So in this beautiful spring-time of the year, 
when all nature seems to be lifting up its hymn 



TRUST IN GOD. 



265 



of praise to God, may we draw nearer to him 
whose hand is busy with blessing all around us ! 
May we be willing to sow for him, and patiently 
wait his time for the harvest : and, in trusting 
faith, yield ourselves to him, our Guide, our 
Preserver, our Father ! 



TRUST IN GOD. 

SOME of you have taken that exciting, that 
apparently perilous voyage down the rapids 
of the St. Lawrence. At the head of the last 
and swiftest rapid, we stopped for a moment to 
take in a pilot. Four men took their station 
with him at the wheel. We turn into the swift 
current. The boilers are urged to their utmost 
capacity, and the full head of steam is on, that 
we may get steerage by moving a little faster 
even than the swift stream. We are borne 
along with appalling velocity ; we can see the 
slant of the water, and feel the descent as we 
plunge downward. As we stand at the bow, 
when our speed is the greatest, near the end of 
the long rapid, we see, just before us, two huge 
black rocks, with hardly the steamer's width be- 
tween them, just emerging from the boiling 
tide. At this fearful speed, through that narrow 
passage we must pass. A few feet on either 



266 



TRUST IN GOD. 



side is destruction. We hold our breath, per- 
haps lift up a silent prayer, and in a moment we 
are safely through. He who had brought us 
there knew the way ; it was his business to 
carry us through ; he was equal to the emer- 
gency. We trusted to him, and were safe. 

So, in life, we have not to steer our own 
course. The Almighty Pilot is at the helm. 
Dangers and difficulties seem to be before us : 
but he who has brought us into them knows all 

o 

about them ; and he will carry us safely through, 
if we only trust. 



WE are all much more willing to work than 
to trust. Do you doubt this ? It is so 
much so, that usually God's only way to teach 
us to trust in him is by the lesson of sickness 
and deprivation and loss ; by placing us where 
we cannot help ourselves, and then saying, 
Trust in me now, and find how strong and ready 
I am to help. It is often only as a last resort 
when we are helpless and powerless, that we 
turn to the Father in heaven, and seek strength 
from him. And thus we have to be taught that 
lesson of far-advanced Christian experience; 
thus learn that " his strength is made perfect in 
our weakness." 



INFIRMITY AND SICKNESS. 



267 



It is worth all it costs, even to learn it thus ; 
but how much more we should accomplish, if we 
could only join these powers together, and seek 
God's help at the same time that we make our 
strongest efforts ! We shall work better because 
we also trust ; and only when we are doing our 
best do we find that we can fully and implicitly 
trust. God's help is strong, and man's work 
maybe strong; but man's work reinforced by 
God's help is invincible. 



INFIRMITY AND SICKNESS. 

PERHAPS there is nothing harder to call 
blessed than the physical disabilities and 
imperfections which weigh so heavily upon 
some persons. But these may be even the rich- 
est blessings. When Walter Scott was a boy, 
he was afflicted with a lameness which rendered 
it impossible for him to join in the active sports 
of his companions. Probably his mother wept 
and prayed over this disability of her son. It 
seemed so sad that her child should be shut 
out from so much enjoyment, made useless as a 
boy and as a man, and his sphere narrowed. 
But the boy, to avoid being left alone, began to 
tell stories to his companions, till, at last, they 
would all leave their sports to come and listen 



268 



INFIRMITY AND SICKNESS. 



to him. Thus, through this very infirmity, he 
was led into the path of future usefulness and 
fame. 

Who does not recall, on the other hand, the 
sad story of one of the greatest geniuses of 
England, who, stung almost to madness by the 
corroding sense of a bodily imperfection, wasted 
his noble powers on unworthy aims, and almost 
cursed God, and died ? God meant that infirmity 
to be a blessing to him. By it he would have 
weaned him from his inordinate vanity; he would 
have curbed that fiery and ambitious nature, and 
taught him by weakness the true source of 
strength; through that thorn in the flesh, the 
Father would have saved the spirit of his child. 
He spurned, with loathing, what, in God's pur- 
pose, was the best of all his noble gifts ; he per- 
verted the blessing into a curse. 

Contrast Byron's embittered and defiant spirit 
with that of, I might almost say, England's 
greatest man, who had learned, in the school of 
Christ, to bear the Father's will. When an 
antagonist reproached Milton with his bodily 
infirmity, he replied : " It is not so wretched 
to be blind as it is not to be capable of endur- 
ing blindness. There is a way to strength 
through weakness. Let me, then, be the most 
feeble creature alive, as long as that feebleness 
serves to invigorate the energies of my rational 
and immortal spirit, as long as in that obscurity 



INFIRMITY AND SICKNESS. 



269 



in which I am enveloped the light of the divine 
presence more clearly shines : then, in propor- 
tion as I am weak, I shall be invincibly strong ; 
and, in proportion as I am blind. I shall more 
clearly see. Oh that I may be thus perfected 
by feebleness, and irradiated by obscurity ! 
And, indeed, in my blindness I enjoy, in no incon- 
siderable degree, the favor of the Deity, who 
regards me with more tenderness and compas- 
sion in proportion as I am able to behold nothing 
but himself. For the divine law not only shields 
me from injury, but almost renders me too sa- 
cred to attack; not, indeed, so much from the 
privation of my sight as from the overshadowing 
of those heavenly wings which seem to have 
occasioned this obscurity, and which, when oc- 
casioned, he is wont to illuminate with an 
interior light, more precious and more pure/*' 
This grievous infirmity, than which we cannot 
imagine one more distressing, thus devoutly 
received, was, indeed, a great blessing, as he 
used it. It led him into the ordained path. As 
with a flaming sword, it barred against him the 
pursuit of politics and statesmanship to which he 
so much inclined, and gave to us the noblest 
epic of modern times. Milton, the secretary 
of Cromwell's council, would long since have 
been forgotten, had not Milton the poet kept 
his name in memory. 

I will mention but one more of these blessings, 



270 



INFIRMITY AND SICKNESS. 



sometimes unrecognized because of its sober 
garb, which yet is often the crowning mercy of 
a lifetime. Sickness, long and wearisome, may 
be the angel of blessing. Who has not seen its 
blessed ministry, when accepted in a devout 
and Christian spirit? I have seen under its 
discipline the character grow fuller and stronger, 
at the same time that it was growing more trust- 
ful; and, for every joy that w T as taken away, a ten- 
fold greater was brought in, till the sufferer could 
say, from his heart, that those last years were 
his happiest, though they were years of weak- 
ness and pain and apprehension. God deals 
wonderfully with his children, and often through 
sickness lifts them up into the fuller radiance 
of his presence, which makes up a hundred 
times for w r hat it takes away. 

The Messiah comes oftenest to us, as he was 
said to come to the Jews, in the "clouds of 
heaven." My friends, have you not found that 
sometimes, when you thought you were bearing 
the heaviest burdens, you were unconsciously en- 
tertaining angels unawares? The time will come 
to us all, when, as we look back, we shall esti- 
mate all things at their true value. And it will 
be well for vis now, while we are passing through 
the experiences of life, to take them on trust 
at that estimate. We must remember that 
every thing which God sends he means for 
blessing; and it will be blessing, if we do not wrest 



USES OF ADVERSITY. 



271 



it from its purpose. And so we can learn with 
each new experience, difficult or sorrowful as 
it may appear, still to trust in him, and to say 
with Job, " Shall we receive good at the hand 
of God, and shall we not receive evil?" feeling 
all the while, what the patriarch did not feel, 
that God's evil is always good, perhaps the 
highest good. 



USES OF ADVERSITY. 

"YVT^ are too near events to take a compre- 
™ * hensive and a just view of them. As 
we climb a rugged mountain, how barren, un- 
sightly, and ugly the way seems ! but, as we look 
back from the distance upon that same road, it 
seems to be the gem of the whole landscape set 
in the rock, and fringed with the sombre ever- 
green. Life is too short often to give us this 
comprehensive view, which adjusts the respect- 
ive places of all things. We need the per- 
spective of time and distance, even to assign to 
the experiences of our own lives their fitting 
relations. 

Yet, seen or unseen, the Father is with his 
children ; our ways are in his hand. And often 
the means which he uses to direct us are cir- 
cumstances which we count misfortunes, annoy- 
ances, calamities. Perhaps we have never fully 



272 



USES OF ADVERSITY. 



comprehended what was our place and work in 
the world. We are, perhaps, too easily contented 
with our situation ; we would plod along in it 
day by day and year by year, doing compara- 
tively little for ourselves and others. But the 
Father sees powers in his child which need to 
be called out, and a wider work which he is 
capable of doing. Against his will, with bitter 
lamentations even, the quiet, pleasant nook in 
which he had ensconced himself as for life is 
broken up ; and he mourns that he is turned 
adrift. It is the Father's way of leading him to 
the higher opportunities of growth, to the wider 
field of usefulness. It is not misfortune : it is 
the highest blessing. 

The biography has just been published of one 
of the most eminent historians of our country, 
and perhaps of the world. His life is most in- 
structive. When he entered college, his aim 
was simply to be a gentleman. He deliberately 
resolved upon the number of the college exer- 
cises which it would be sufficient for him to 
attend, and the number of parties and entertain- 
ments in Boston each week in which he could 
safely indulge ; and he made it a matter of con- 
science, if he varied at all, to take less of study, 
and more of pleasure, than he had bargained 
for with himself. What bridges over the gap 
between a character like this, light-minded, 
pleasure-seeking, self-indulgent, and the self- 



TRIALS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 273 



denying, conscientious, hard-working religions 
man whom we all delighted to honor ? This 
in his Junior year, in some little disturbance in 
Commons, he was struck in the eye by a piece 
of crust thrown at random, which cost him the 
total loss of one eye and great weakness of 
the other. As far as we can see, this deter- 
mined his course, and gave the world, instead 
of a polite, handsome, refined, useless gentleman, 
a splendid man of letters, a great historian, and 
to the Lord Jesus an humble disciple. 



TRIALS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 

IS one good and faithful, and is this a reason 
why God should make his path smooth 
and easy before him ? Nay ; it is the trees that 
bear fruit which we prune : we do not take the 
pains to prune those which are worthless. The 
pebbles of the sea-shore we never polish : it is 
the gems only which are worth that labor. And 
so whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth ; and, if 
there be any who are nobler, purer, and richer 
souls than the rest, it is these very ones, the 
best beloved, whom he chastens most, that he 
may purge all the dross away from the fine gold, 
and fit them for their high place near him. The 
heathen may see in trials and sufferings the 

18 



274 TRIALS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 



wrath of an offended Deity: the Christian must 
look upon them as the sign of the divine love ? 
and as the very stamp of acceptance with the 
Father. 

It is easy to talk of our dependence on God : 
but 7 in prosperity and health and strength, we do 
not feel how dependent we are. It is when, one 
after another, the earthly props on which we 
have rested are swept away, that we turn to 
Him who is mighty to help. One would think, 
that, when we have the most joys, we should 
naturally be the most grateful ; but I believe it 
is not so. We are so busy enjoying that we 
really forget that we have much to be thankful 
for. There may be to-day more of grateful 
praise for blessings spared, going up to God 
from hearts bowed down with sickness, than 
from those in the full enjoyment of health. And, 
as for contentment, I have, through long months 
of weariness and excruciating pain, listened in 
vain for one single complaint from the patient 
sufferer ; while perhaps in that time I have heard 
hundreds from those whose lot seemed all that 
heart could wish. 

Do we shrink from the hard discipline, and 
think, that, if God loved us, he surely would pro- 
vide some easier way for gaining this needful 
growth ? Nay, my friends : . we are not alone in 
this. We know not how much of what we love 
best and admire most in human characters is 



TRIALS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 



275 



but the natural fruit of this same hard teaching ; 
lessons shrunk from at the time as evil, and yet 
looked back upon as life's greatest blessings. 
And, when the trial for us or for those we love 
is so hard that our faith almost wavers, then let 
us turn to the Father's best beloved, our Master, 
and remember that even he became " perfect 
through suffering. 77 

From every sorrow which you receive in a 
spirit of Christian resignation, from every pain 
you bear patiently, from every great trial you 
bravely meet, there silently passes to those 
about you strength and comfort and encourage- 
ment. Without saying a word, you are exhort- 
ing to faith and patience and trust; you are 
inspiring in others the Christian spirit, and 
building them up in the Christian life. Have 
you never come from a sick-room, where life 
was slowly wearing out by a painful and hope- 
less disease, a terrible trial bravely met ; have 
you not come away, feeling stronger for bear- 
ing your own burden ? Is not this the thought 
on your mind : How wrong is it for me to com- 
plain of my little pains, and murmur in my 
little trials, while she can bear with so much 
Christian patience, without a single murmur, 
her crushing affliction ! It is even so. From 
suffering come some of our best lessons. Trials 
and sorrows and pains, more or less heavy, 
must come to us all; but, "beloved, think it 



276 



TRIALS AND BEREAVEMENTS. 

u 



not strange concerning the fiery trial which is 
to try you, as though some strange thing hap- 
pened unto you : but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are 
partakers of Christ's sufferings ; that, when his 
glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also 
with exceeding joy." 



rflHE loving Father above, because of his very 
love, when his kindness cannot awaken 
affection in return, lets the breath of his mouth 
fall on our wealth, and the blight come on our 
harvests ; lets his knife prune away the thorns 
which are choking up our souls ; yea, takes the 
dearest treasure of earthly affection into his 
own bosom, that our hearts may follow them up 
thither. Just as the Alpine shepherds, as is 
told in a beautiful poem, when they wish to lead 
their sheep away from the worn-out pastures 
below up to the sweet and juicy grass which 
grows among the mountain cliffs, take the ten- 
der lambs in their arms and carry them thither ; 
and though the path leads over rough crags, 
and across chasms, and by the verge of preci- 
pices, yet the sheep cannot stay behind, but 
must follow where their lambs are gone; so, 
often, does the good Father do with us. 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



277 



SUFFERING AXD DEATH. 

MAXIFOLD are the means which God uses 
to draw us nearer to himself, and to build 
us up in true manhood and into fitness for the 
higher life : sorrow and joy. pain and blessing, 
just as we need, and as he who is All-wise sees 
to be best for us. The diamond may have lain 
for ages in the river-bed, with the waters gently 
rushing over it ; but still, in spite of this, coarse 
and rough, like any other pebble of the shore. 
The lapidary must grind it on his wheel, before 
it shows forth its full beauty and value. So the 
common experiences of life may pass over us, 
leaving concealed all the hidden beauty and 
wealth of our nature ; and suffering must come 
to bring out what is best in us. God has tried 
one thing and another, and they do not refine 
and develop fully the soul of his child. And 
then in love, with firm but merciful hand, he 
puts it on the wheel of suffering and pain, that 
it may be made a fit jewel for the crown of the 
great King. Thank God, then, for sorrow ! 
Thank God for sickness and pain, if through 
these stern teachers we may only be led nearer 
to him ! 

Did you ever think what is God's purpose in 
usually sending sickness before death? Is it not 
to smooth over the hard passage for those who 



278 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



go and for those who stay? I never knew an 
instance of one called to leave this world before 
he felt willing and ready to go. It may have 
taken months and years of preparation ; but 
the willingness came at last. And sometimes it 
is not willingness to die, but willingness to live, 
which is the test of Christian faith. And the 
prayer from the weary heart is for patience to 
wait God 7 s time. One half of the lesson of life 
for us is, to learn how to obey God; and the 
other is, to learn % trust in him. 

But what is death? Why should the voice 
be hushed into a whisper when we speak of 
it, as if its very name was a shape of terror? 
Why should we think of it as something out of 
the course of God's ordinary providence, some- 
thing strange, mysterious, awful? Let us try 
to think and speak of it, as those to whom faith 
in Christ gives the victory over death ! I re- 
joice to believe that more cheerful, and at the 
same time more true and Christian, views are 
prevailing in the community; and that, if not 
this generation, yet our children, will be deliv- 
ered from its needless fear. It seems as if our 
forefathers felt as if it were a sin to associate 
any thing but gloomy thoughts with a subject 
so solemn. Not long ago, I visited the spot 
where the dust of my ancestors rests in the old 
churchyard. Desolate and bleak on the north- 
east exposure of the hillside, with scarcely a 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



279 



tree to cover its barrenness, was the place which 
they had chosen to lay away the dust of noble 
men, and Christian wives and mothers, and 
darling children, whom God had called home. 
How many hearts have ached almost to break- 
ing, as they left their best treasures behind in 
that cheerless resting-place, and nature could 
whisper no word of comfort to them! How 
different the feeling as we pass along the streets 
of yonder city of the dead ! Solemn, sad, it may 
be ; but the very air whispers of rest and peace 
to the departed, and of comfort to the living. 
The mountain graveyard and sweet Auburn, — 
types of the false and of the Christian view of 
death ! For what is death ? It is only God's 
way of taking us from this state, which was 
never meant to be permanent, to a better and a 
higher home. That may be a very serious 
thing, but it cannot be a fearful thing. What is 
the fitting preparation for it? The best and 
only preparation for dying which I know of is, 
living ; living Christian lives of duty, and serv- 
ing God. That is all, and that is enough. If 
we only do that, we can safely leave the rest 
with him. 

What change does death work in our charac- 
ters ? Of itself, no change at all. It is but an 
event, changing our relations, not ourselves. 
Heaven and earth are but parts of one and the 
same life. The first hour of heaven is joined 



280 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



on to the last of earth; nay, I believe they 
blend together. What is the smile of more than 
earthly peace, which often lights up the face 
of the dead, but the stamp with which the de- 
parting spirit has impressed on the cold clay 
its first glimpse of the blessed world? And 
what are the visions of angelic forms and the 
sounds of celestial music which often fill the 
last hour with rapture, but the withdrawal of 
the veil of flesh and the opening of the spirit- 
ual eye to what is all about us unseen, the 
twilight of the heavenly glory? We can be- 
lieve now : we shall know hereafter. 



WHAT is death? The subject seems natu- 
rally to divide itself into two branches : 
it is a physical fact, a bodily experience to be 
passed through by each one of us ; and it is also 
an event in the plan of God, a crisis to the soul 
of man. It is obvious that the first is only the 
outward form ; the other constitutes its real 
meaning, and is that which alone makes it of 
pre-eminent importance. It can be then looked 
at from the stand-point of the body and of the 
soul. 

I. Let us ask, first, what is the physical 
change which we are to experience in death? 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



281 



We can only answer this question fully, when 
we ourselves have passed through it. The sight 
of the dying does not explain it, and the dead 
have no voice to tell their experience. We 
must judge, then, as well as we can from ap- 
pearances and inferences. We can infer from 
these that death is no object of peculiar and 
mysterious terror, but one of nature's quiet 
and gradual changes. The animal powers, 
worn out by long use or enfeebled by severe 
disease, become weaker and weaker ; all the fac- 
ulties are benumbed ; the limbs, by degrees, 
lose the power of motion ; the heart beats more 
faintly and fitfully ; the breathing is irregular ; 
you can scarcely feel a quiver of the pulse ; and 
then all is still. Exhausted nature has ceased 
her work ; the animal life has expired, as the 
lamp goes out when the oil is spent. It is no 
sudden tearing away, no violent separation, but 
the gradual exhaustion of the powers of the 
body : it is this only which is involved in the 
process ; and, when the garment of flesh thus 
falls off, the spirit is not changed, but is only 
divested of its mortal covering. We called this 
change a process: is there any reason for sup- 
posing that dying must be instantaneous? Are 
not the years of old age a part of dying? If 
the sight grows dim, and then is lost, is not 
then the sight dead? And as one faculty after 
another loses its quickness and activity, is not 



282 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



tliis a part of the mortal change ? And even at 
the last, I believe that there is a time when 
whether one is in the body or not he cannot 
tell. The separation is gradual ; and our friend, 
who seems to us to be in mortal agony, may be 
even then partly in the other world : while the 
body is suffering, the spirit may be having 
glimpses of the glories upon which it is soon to 
enter. 

And often, we know, the dying speak of the 
brightness which surrounds them; and their 
face lights up with rapture at what seems to 
them to be a foretaste of the eternal life. Like 
the martyr Stephen, "they look steadfastly up 
into heaven, and see the glory of God, and 
Jesus standing at the right hand of God." I 
know not how it is with you, but I cannot 
believe that all these celestial visions, which 
often brighten the last hour of the righteous, 
are mere creatures of enthusiasm. I believe 
they are really seen ; and I rejoice in them as 
confirming what seems to me, not only the 
most pleasant, but also the most rational, view 
of the great change. 

I think, also, that appearances and facts do 
not warrant the common view, that intense 
agony always must accompany the process of 
dying. It does not seem consistent with known 
facts that it should be so. Anatomists tell us, 
that the nerves of sensation are much more 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



283 



abundantly distributed on the surface of the 
body than in the vital organs. It seems reason- 
able to infer from this, that an injury to these 
last would not cause so intense pain. And it is 
probably true that every one endures many 
times through life much more violent suffering 
than he must in death. All the powers of the 
body must then be deadened, and the delicate 
nerves of sensation must partake of the general 
torpor. Probably to an infant it would be 
more painful to be born than to die. I believe, 
as a general thing, that death comes without a 
pang; that it is gentle and easy. There may 
be suffering and sickness before it; but, at the 
last, it is rather a falling to sleep than acute pain. 
Our Saviour said, " Our friend Lazarus sleep- 
eth;" and Stephen is said to have "fallen 
asleep," though he died in the agony of a cruel 
martyrdom. 

Are we not in danger of letting what takes 
place after death throw back a shadow upon 
our views of the event itself? The dismal 
shroud ; the black pall, with which, as in mock- 
ery of our Christian faith, we cover the bier : 
how much do these add to our dread of death, 
and deepen its gloom ! And yet we should 
not allow them to do this ; for they are no part 
of the thing itself, but only its scenery. Does 
it not seem, that, as a physical change, we 
have surrounded death with needless terrors? 



284 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



We see no reason to believe that it is an excep- 
tional and frightful event, but simply the wear- 
ing-out and exhaustion of the bodily powers ; 
and they die, only because they can live no 
longer. Neither should we consider it as an 
event of unspeakable agony; but we should 
rather use that favorite image of the Scrip- 
tures, and call it " a falling asleep." 

II. We have thus answered the question, 
What is death to the body ? Now, what is it to 
the soul ? what is it to us, the self which lives 
in the body, and which, we believe, shall live 
as truly after the mortal change ? Though 
God has given to the soul life for ever, yet he 
has also ordained stages in its eternal progress, 
and varieties of discipline. This is one of them. 
It is the point of the soul's rising to its higher 
state. It pleased God that this should be done 
by the putting-off of the body in which it 
dwelt on earth ; and so, when the time for this 
advance comes, the body is laid aside, it dies. 
Is there any thing fearful in this ? Is it a terri- 
ble thought, that this world is not sufficient for 
us, and that we have natures capable of infinite 
expansion? Yet this is the meaning, this is 
the event, of death. And must they not feel 
thus who have passed through this great expe- 
rience ? They do not think of its pain, of its 
terror: they do not say, "I died then;" but, 
" Then was I born into the family in heaven." 



SUFFERING- AND DEATH. 



285 



It is the spiritual birthday. It marks the 
period when the discipline of earth ceases to 
be of benefit to us, and we go from it to a 
better. It is like the fall of the blossoms. 
Something which is very beautiful perishes ; but 
all which is really valuable remains, and from, 
that time begins to develop itself more quickly. 
The leaves fall away, that the germ they en- 
fold may grow up into the higher form of fruit. 

And in death we do not lose any thing which 
is of value, any thing which has not answered 
its purpose. We carry with us all which is 
ourselves, our thoughts, our memory, our char- 
acter, which we have hewn out by the rough in- 
struments of our earthly life. We leave those 
instruments behind, because they are worn out, 
and can no longer do us good ; and we go to 
use those which are more perfect, and with 
which we can add to the beauty and complete- 
ness of our work. 

We ought to accustom ourselves to think of 
death from this point of view, rather than dwell 
so much upon the physical change. This is the 
only thing which is of importance to us, which 
concerns our inner selves ; and, in this light, it 
is full, not of gloom and terror, but of confi- 
dence and joy. It is solemn indeed, but not 
terrible. What is there fearful in this rising of 
the soul to its higher destiny ? Only one thing, 
the thought of a misspent life, of abused privi- 



286 



SUFFERING AND DEATH. 



leges, of wasted discipline. Truly, " the sting 
of death is sin." This we should fear and 
loathe as much before as afterwards. If a m^n 
dies wicked, it is only because he has lived 
wickedly. 

The important thing here is, not death, but 
life ; not when and how we shall die, but how 
we have lived, and how well fitted we are for 
the upper state into which we shall enter. 
Why, then, is death so terrible to the righteous? 
We do not go beyond the government of God ; 
we do not leave behind us his protecting care, 
his fatherly love. It is indeed a solemn thing 
to think that our friends have passed through 
one stage of their everlasting existence ; but 
why should it excite in us feelings of vague, 
superstitious horror? 

And we should let our children's earliest 
impressions of death be these. We should 
connect with it in their minds what pleasant 
associations we can ; we should speak of it 
hopefully, and not in despair ; we should talk of 
the dead as living, as in truth we believe 
they live. We should not speak or think 
of death with levity or indifference ; for it is 
indeed a solemn and momentous change to us. 
But there is little danger of our doing that. 
Neither should we go to meet it with a heathen 
dread, with a mysterious awe. It is not Chris- 
tian to make death the "king of terrors;" for 



IMMORTALITY. 



287 



have we not believed in one who has overcome 
death, and given us the victory through his 
blessed name? Let us take comfort in this 
sure belief, and not live, and not sorrow, " as 
those who are without hope ! " 



IMMORTALITY. 

T>EFORE the time of Columbus, philosophers 
had reasoned about the existence of an- 
other continent. They believed, perhaps, that 
the ocean which washed the coasts of Spain 
might not be boundless to the west. And this 
belief may have gained some credence among 
the people. But what certainty or assurance 
did they have of it ? To what did it all amount ? 
What was this guess, this dream, of another world, 
to the kings and philosophers and people of 
Europe ? Nothing. Columbus went thither, and 
returned. And this dim belief, this theory, this 
dream which had lain lightly on the minds of 
men, settled down into a firm conviction ; it was 
clothed with all the strength of reality. 

This is just the change which has come over 
men's thoughts of immortality. What was the 
dim theory before, is now the firm conviction. 
The traveller has been to the undiscovered coun- 
try, which philosophers ha(J reasoned about, and 



288 



IMMORTALITY. 



the common people believed in. He has returned ; 
and it is no longer undiscovered, but our far- 
away home, where mansions are waiting for us. 
This stormy sea we must one day traverse. But 
it will not be wholly in fear and dread. It is 
not shoreless. We have a confident assurance 
that there is a home for us beyond it, and the 
humblest of us may set sail with an unwavering 
faith which the greatest of antiquity knew not of, 
because to us " Christ has brought life and im- 
mortality to light through the gospel." 



DO you recollect that thrilling instance of 
self-sacrifice ? how, when the last boat was 
just cutting off from the wrecked vessel, in that 
awful hour the mother refused to leave behind 
her husband and her child ; and, when death 
came to one, clasped in each other's arms they 
sunk in the surging waters ? Now, is it possible 
that the love which at one moment was so intense 
that it absorbed every other feeling, even the 
desire for life, in another moment ceased to be ? 
Is it possible that a moment of time could work 
this change in human souls, though it were the 
moment of death ? Sooner would I believe that 
the waves annihilated the immortal spirits of 
those loving ones than that it quenched their 



IMMORTALITY. 



289 



mutual love. And so it must be with all earthly 
affection, which is true and earnest and pure. 
Death cannot destroy it ; for it is stronger than 
death. The grave cannot chill it ; for it lies not 
there with the body, but lives for ever. And we 
may believe, that, as those on earth get ready 
their homes and open their hearts for the uncon- 
cious child which is yet unborn, so for us, in 
sickness and in death, are the dear departed 
watching, ready to receive and to welcome the 
new-born heir of heaven to the celestial mansions. 



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